


Now let me at the truth (Which will refresh my broken mind)

by stjarna



Series: Season 4 - Coda Challenge [26]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: 4x15 coda, Alternate Reality, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bus Kids - Freeform, Chapter 13 rated T, F/M, Framework, Gen, Lots of Angst, Multi Chapter, Speculation, True Love, lots of brotp, spec fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-05-17
Packaged: 2018-09-27 19:10:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 83,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10040534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: Jemma and Daisy enter the Framework to rescue their friends, but the world they find is not a perfect replica of their world.





	1. See the world hanging upside down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marvelthismarvelthat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marvelthismarvelthat/gifts).



> Huge thank you to @marvelthismarvelthat for agreeing to beta for me (and committing to a potentially long-term beta relationship, 'cause I'm not quite sure how quickly this fic will get done).
> 
> Title and chapter titles from “The Cave” by Mumford & Sons

For a moment, Jemma feels disoriented.

Less than a second ago, she’d been on the Zephyr lying on a medical gurney, not ready but willing to plug herself into the Framework. She could feel the pain from the stab wound in her leg. She could feel the pain from the massive bruise on her forehead. She could feel the pain from the memory of stabbing him… stabbing _it_ over and over again until its eyes went dark and its spell on her was broken for good. And even though she had washed it off, she could still feel the artificial blood smeared across her face. At least Jemma hoped it had been artificial blood. That Radcliffe hadn’t gone to such extremes to make the LMDs more realistic.

Now?

She doesn’t feel the pain anymore. The physical pain at least. The image of his… _its_ lifeless eyes, however, seem to have followed her into the Framework like a shadow, like a ghost.

She’s afraid to move, afraid to allow her eyes to focus and observe her surroundings.

She’s unsure of how to act in this virtual world, what to expect.

_Get yourself together! Breathe!_ she demands of herself, forcing herself to inhale, exhale.

Yourself?

Is it even the right word?

Her mind is here, but her body is… there… back in reality, _her_ reality, her _world_ … _his_ world… _their_ world.

But this is real, too, isn’t it?

It feels real.

Her body.

Her avatar’s body?

Where does she end and the avatar begin?

Inhale, exhale.

Inhale, exhale.

Jemma becomes aware of how tightly she’s clenching her jaw and opens her mouth, letting her next exhales escape through her rounded lips.

Then she allows her eyes to wander.

She recognizes it immediately, the brick walls, the familiar workbenches, the sterile surfaces with microscopes, centrifuges and other lab equipment, the clean chamber in the corner, the beakers, jars and bottles lined up on the shelves, the chemicals stored away behind glass, the computer screen in front of her, just the way she would place it, perfectly angled to avoid a glare from the ceiling lights. She glances at the open files on the screen: research on Inhuman DNA.

Jemma brings her face closer to the screen, focusing on her own reflection rather than the DNA strings, numbers, and words flickering on the screen. Her hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail, about the same length as… well… in reality. She straightens up, glancing briefly to the sides to ensure that the lab techs working in the corner have not noticed her strange behavior. Jemma looks down at herself. Her outfit is most definitely something she’d choose for herself.

Jemma takes a deep breath and a smile flashes across her face. “Well, this doesn’t seem too different,” she whispers to herself.

“Simmons!”

Jemma’s head shoots around. Wide-eyed, she stares at the source of the voice.

She notices the corners of her mouth quirking up, but forces herself to remain calm.

Still, when his name finally escapes her lips, it’s nothing more than a quiet whisper.

“Hunter.”

He takes a step into the lab, the familiar boyish grin that had become nothing but a sad memory playing on his lips.

“Ah, Simmons. Jemma. My English rose! What’s my favorite biochemist up to? And _please_ say, being _this_ close (He presses his index finger and thumb together, scrunching up his face for emphasis) to solving how we can protect the Inhumans from extinction-made-by-Hydra, ‘cause the Director just received word that Fury is on his way to the base and the lass just might get an aneurysm if she can’t present him with some kind of update. We could _all_ use some good news for a change.”

Jemma draws in a slow breath. The Director. _She_? Hydra?

“Ummm,” she mutters, trying to stall time. “Ummm… Yes, sure.” She wrinkles her forehead. “Well, I can’t promise a full solution, but I’ll _definitely_ put everything I got together.”

Hunter squints his eyes and takes a step forward. “You okay? You seem off.”

Almost instinctively, Jemma takes a step back, but the workbench behind her stops her. Her breath becomes shaky and her heart hammers inside her chest. She shakes her head and forces a nervous smile, rubbing her forehead and trying to steady her trembling hand.

“Jemma?” Hunter takes another step towards her, and Jemma blinks, trying not to let the tears, which are fighting to reach the surface, win.

It’s like the world slows down as her thoughts start racing, start spinning around her like swarming insects attacking her mind.

This world is a duplicate of theirs.

Yet it isn’t the same.

It’s strange.

Surreal.

It’s a world where Hunter didn’t have to leave.

_We’ll never have to fear losing each other again._

His… _its_ words echo in her brain.

_I’m securing our future._

Had Radcliffe tried to do more than just replicate their world? Had he built a perfect world? A world without pain? A world where they hadn’t lost their friends to betrayal and death? Was Bobbi here too? Who else?

Jemma shakes her head.

It doesn’t _seem_ perfect. It doesn’t _seem_ pain-free.

Hydra was trying to eradicate the Inhumans.

_It isn’t the same. It isn’t real._

And then it sinks in.

It doesn’t matter whether it’s real or not.

She’s still Jemma Simmons. Biochemist. Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.

She doesn’t have to play a role. She can play herself.

“Are you alright, Jemma?”

Hunter’s standing right in front of her now, one hand slowly reaching up to touch her arm, his eyes full of concern.

“Yes.” Her voice still sounds a bit shaky, but Jemma can feel herself taking control again. “Splitting headache. Can barely think.” She almost believes it herself.

Hunter’s expression softens. “Well, love, I wish I could tell you to just take a break and take the day off, but Hand’s _really_ hoping for some answers.” He gently squeezes her shoulder. “You’re a biochemist. Mix yourself some concoction.”

Hand? Hand is still alive. Hand is Director? Where’s Coulson? Fleeting thoughts.

“I’ll get my potion cauldron right away.” Jemma manages to joke.

“There you go, Hermione! I’ll let Hand know that you’ll put things together for her.” Hunter gestures with both thumbs over his shoulder.

Jemma nods and he turns around to leave.

“Hunter,” she calls after him and he turns back to face her. “Have you seen Fitz?”

“Leopold Fitz? You mean that blob on the news when the press tried to corner him about their super-secret new project? Yeah, I saw that. Sounds like they’ll be holding a press conference in a few days.”

_Leopold Fitz? Both names? Leopold? First name? News? Press conference? They? Who’s ‘they’?_

Jemma’s body and mind are frozen, unable to comprehend the information.

“Any idea what they’re up to?”

She hears Hunter’s question, but her mouth won’t formulate a reply. She can’t. Because there is no reply to a question that shouldn’t exist.

She’s relieved and terrified when Hunter simply continues instead of waiting for an answer.

“RadFitz Technologies has been on Hand’s radar for awhile now. Their inventions always seem pretty breakthrough and for the greater good and all that, but we’ve seen their stuff pop up in Hydra territory.”

_RadFitz Technologies? Inventions? Hydra?_

There it was again: Hydra.

When she had awoken in this virtual world, it had looked like most things were familiar, the same, unchanged.

But the more Jemma hears, the more she feels like a sledgehammer has been taken to her world, and she’s desperately trying to piece together the shattered pieces and make sense of whatever remains.

“Question is have they gone to the Dark Side or are we talking corporate espionage?” Hunter continues and Jemma forces herself to retain the information she’s being given. She needs to put together the scrambled puzzle pieces.

“I mean Radcliffe and his trophy wife are constantly all over the tabloids and magazine covers, but never anything business related, and Fitz.” Hunter shakes his head. “The guy’s so private he doesn’t even have a Facebook page, or Twitter, or Instagram. His work might be futuristic, but the guy seems to prefer to live in the Dark Ages. With whatever scattered interviews and public appearances he does, it’s hard to judge if he’s really the complete douche he seems to be or just one heck of an introvert.”

Jemma forces a shaky breath out of her nose while the corners of her mouth twitch nervously. She hopes Hunter will interpret it as a chuckle instead of as the full-blown panic attack she feels boiling below the surface.

“Anyway. Why’d you ask?”

Hunter’s questions forces Jemma to focus, trying to come up with an answer to yet another impossible question.

To make matters worse, Hunter adds another one. “You know anything? ‘Cause Hand’s stone-cold heart might actually skip a beat if you can give her some intel. Woman might just hug you!”

He points at Jemma, squinting his eyes. “Did their names ever pop up while you were undercover at Hydra?”

Jemma shakes her head, finally forcing her lips to speak. “No. At least not that I recall.”

_It’s not even a lie_ , she tells herself.

“You have any science nerd connections you could check in with?”

Jemma clears her throat, forcing yet another smile. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Great! Good luck with that headache. I’d offer some of my preferred hangover cures, but I’m afraid they don’t work too well on a regular good ol’ headache.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Hunter nods, turns around, and disappears into the hallway.

Jemma stares at the open door.

Her stomach tightens at the thought of having lied to Hunter so blatantly, multiple times. And it was getting easier, too.

She had lied to him, even though he was her friend.

Except it wasn’t really Hunter. It wasn’t him. It wasn’t real.

_He’s not real. Nothing is real,_ she reminds herself.

But it feels so real.

The lines between what _is_ real and what _feels_ real seem so blurred in this virtual world.

She had lied to her friend, who didn’t actually exist… not like this… not anymore.

And yet, it makes her feel like a traitor, a double-agent.

S.H.I.E.L.D. in this world vs. S.H.I.E.L.D. in her world, the _real_ world.

It’s a strange feeling: guilt for having done something that technically never happened because it isn’t real.

But it _is_ real right now.

She’s here.

Talking. Walking. Thinking. Doing. Lying. Pretending.

_Where do I end and my avatar begin?_

Jemma feels her breathing quicken. She closes her eyes and holds her breath, then forces the air out of her lungs through her lips, trying to steady herself, trying to center herself.

_This isn’t real! This isn’t real_ , she reminds herself.

But right now, she has to navigate this unreal world. She has to treat it as her own. She has to find their friends, find _him_ , so they can go back to their reality, the _real_ world, their home.

She sits down and opens a browser window on her computer screen.

_Leopold Fitz._

She gets more than a million hits.

Jemma stares at the photographs of him, appearing at the top of her search results. Designer suits. His eyes somber and hard on the few pictures in which he isn’t wearing dark sunglasses. His expression—if any—serious. His hair shorter. His beard perfectly trimmed. It’s Fitz, except it isn’t. It isn’t even an approximation. It’s as if someone had cut out his face and glued it on top of somebody else’s.

Jemma feels cold sweat creeping up her spine. She feels nauseous. She feels everything and nothing as her eyes continue to wander from photograph to photograph.

She blinks away tears, looking at his hand curled around the waist of a young, beautiful brunette, then a slim, gorgeous blond. Most photographs are business like, official images from the company’s website, or professionally taken pictures from magazine covers, public events, movie premiers. Others are paparazzi shots, blurry and taken from a distance, or showing him angry, his hand stretched out to cover the lens.

Jemma scrolls down until the images disappear from the screen, those haunting photographs of someone who looks like the man she loved and a complete stranger at the same time.

She closes her eyes and exhales, before focusing back on her research.

_Leopold Fitz. Co-founder of RadFitz Technologies._

Jemma skims the company’s website and various articles. They’ve been ranked among the Fortune 500 companies for several years, specializing in robotics and advanced prosthetics. Together with Stark Industries and Quinn Worldwide, they dominate the science and technology market. In recent years, they seem to have expanded their research and product range to include various programs and technological aids, primarily used in the medical sector.

Jemma remembers what Hunter had said.

_Their inventions always seem pretty breakthrough and for the greater good_.

That much appears to be true.

_Exclusive Interview with Holden Radcliffe and Leopold Fitz, Fortune’s Business People of the Year_

The title catches Jemma’s attention.

She clicks the link and is redirected to a video.

The still image shows the journalist sitting across from Radcliffe and Fitz. They’re underneath a sunshade on what appears to be the patio of a big mansion. Large potted plants and flowers make up the immediate backdrop. Radcliffe is smiling widely. His face is tan and he leans slightly forward, suggesting that the first moment of the video will show him readjusting his position to get more comfortable on the wicker chair. Fitz is leaning back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. His legs are stretched out, one leg lying on top the other. He’s wearing sunglasses. His expression is neutral, but his lips seem tense.

Jemma feels her heart racing as she stares at the play-button.

She longs to hear his voice and at the same time is scared of what she’ll hear.

She’s afraid that the puzzle she’s trying to piece together will shatter into even more, even tinier fragments as the illusion of this world slowly crushes more and more of her reality, their reality, the _real_ world.

_This isn’t real. It isn’t real_ , she reminds herself.

Jemma takes a deep breath and clicks play.

“It is my pleasure to be talking with Holden Radcliffe and Leopold Fitz today. Founders of RadFitz Technologies and Fortune’s Business People of the Year,” the journalist says into the camera, before turning her attention to the interviewees.

The woman smiles widely, her bleached teeth sparkling pearly-white. “Holden, Leopold, thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me today.”

She turns her head slightly to look at Radcliffe. “Holden, your property is simply breathtaking. Thank you for offering to hold the interview here.”

“It’s my pleasure, Lauren. _Mi casa es su casa_.” Radcliffe smiles widely, gesturing towards the property. “I have to confess though, that everything you see here is my Agnes’ doing. She’s the mastermind when it comes to interior and exterior design.”

“Well, be sure to give Agnes my best in that case,” the journalist replies politely. Her eyes wander to the notecards in her hands, before she raises her head again to address Radcliffe and Fitz.

“This is the _first_ year that Fortune has awarded the title of Business Person of the Year to _two_ individuals. To me, that says a lot about your close collaboration, your friendship.” She crosses her legs and gestures at both men in front of her, while her other hand, holding the cards, rests on her knee.

“Well, I often wonder where _I_ end and _he_ begins,” Radcliffe jokes, pointing at himself then Fitz. Jemma notices one corner of Fitz’s mouth quirk up for a split second. “It’s almost as if we’re a single person sometimes,” Radcliffe adds.

Jemma feels a fist clenching down on her heart.

A single person. That was _them_. Fitzsimmons. Not him and Radcliffe.

She feels the acidic taste of nausea in her mouth.

“Well, I’d _love_ to hear more about that,” the journalist exclaims enthusiastically, leaning forward, a wide smile adorning her lips. “It’s not hard to find information about RadFitz Technologies. And thanks, by the way, for sending me your company profile, Holden,” she adds, lifting a thick brochure in glossy paper off the table next to her chair.

“But, Leopold,” the journalist addresses Fitz, and a shiver runs down Jemma’s spine at the unfamiliar sound of his first name. “Maybe _you_ could tell us a bit more about where it all began. How did you and Holden meet?”

Fitz seems surprised to actually being asked a question. Nervously, he shifts in his seat and straightens up. He clears his throat and glances at Radcliffe, who smiles widely.

“Umm,” Fitz mutters. “Well. My… My parents have always been my biggest fans and supporters.” A smile flashes across his face and it’s the first time Jemma feels like she sees something familiar.

His expression seems to become more alive. “I was interested in monkeys, my mum took me to the zoo. I was interested in science, my dad took me to London to the Science Museum,” Fitz recalls a memory that Jemma knows never happened. It had been his mum. It had _always_ been just his mum. “And well, once my parents started noticing my interest in engineering and mechanics, they… well, my dad contacted Holden—”

“Yes, you see, Lauren, Billy and I… Billy’s Leopold’s dad… we were classmates,” Radcliffe interrupts Fitz, leaning closer to the journalist, while Fitz’s body language immediately becomes closed off as he crosses his arms in front of his chest again.

“St. Mungo’s at Eastwood.” Radcliffe seems oblivious to the fact that he has hijacked a question addressed to Fitz. “And later, we commuted to the city together for work. Oh, I remember when Leopold was born and Billy showed me those pictures of his newborn son and he was _so_ proud. It was such a joy to see. Something I’ve never experienced myself. And well, when Billy contacted me and told me about his son’s interest in science and engineering, of _course_ I agreed to meet the boy. And what I saw, what I heard… Well, it was _undeniable_ that Leopold was a prodigy! So what could I do but take the boy under my wings, Lauren?”

She journalist smiles politely and nods, before turning to face Fitz. “So, your relationship with Holden started out as that of student and mentor?”

“Yeah, kinda, although—”

“No no no, that doesn’t describe it at all!” Radcliffe once again makes it his business to answer, and Fitz falls silent. “Right from the beginning, I felt like our relationship went _far_ beyond that. _I_ learned just as much from Leopold as _he_ learned from me. It’s truly amazing to see what this young man comes up with.” Radcliffe reaches over and squeezes Fitz’s shoulder, who smiles shyly. “I couldn’t be prouder of him if he were my own son.”

Jemma stops the video and stares at the screen.

They’ve never met.

She’s not sure why it had taken her so long to realize it.

It seems so logical now. So simple.

Radcliffe had given Fitz a father who supported him, and he’d made himself Fitz’s mentor, a _second_ father figure, double or nothing. He had taken him under his wings and Fitz’s trajectory had been thrown completely off course, their whole world had been turned upside-down.

Life had taken him on a path separate from hers.

No Academy. No S.H.I.E.L.D. No her. No them.

They’ve never met.

Their puzzle pieces didn’t fit together.

She feels the thin cold trails of tears on her cheeks.

They’ve never met.

She closes her eyes, feels a tremble run through her body as every cell seems to vibrate with anxiety, panic, fear.

Her muscles tense and she finds it hard to breathe. Impossible to breathe.

Panic-stricken, she pushes her chair away from the desk and gets up, her knees almost buckling below her.

She glances around the room but nobody seems to pay attention to her, nobody seems to notice.

She heads for the door and stumbles down the hallway, trying to grab the familiar brick wall for support as she rushes towards the bathroom.

She pushes the door open. Nobody else is inside. Not that she would care. Not that she would even notice.

She barely makes it into one of the stalls before she throws up.

_It isn’t real. It isn’t real. It isn’t real_ , Jemma repeats as vomit and acid fill her throat and mouth. _We met. We met. He knows you. He knows you. This isn’t real. It isn’t real._

Tears mix with the yellow bile floating in the toilet bowl in front of her. Her body shakes from throwing up, from sobbing, from the panic she feels in every bone, every muscle, every cell.

_This isn’t real. He knows you. He’ll know. He’ll come home. He’ll come. You just have to get to him._

Jemma sits back, resting her back against the wall of the bathroom stall. She closes her eyes and focuses on her breathing.

Inhale. _This isn’t real._ Exhale. _You’ll find him._ Inhale. _You’ll go home._ Exhale. _With him._ Inhale. _You belong together._ Exhale. _This is not how your story ends._ Inhale. _You belong together._ Exhale. _In every world._ Inhale. _In every reality._ Exhale. _This isn’t real._

She opens her eyes and pushes herself up. Her legs barely seem strong enough to keep herself stable. She opens the door to the bathroom stall and walks to the sink. She turns on the water and holds her wrists into the ice-cold stream, closing her eyes until she feels calmer. She washes her face and grabs some paper towels to dry off.

She looks up. Her eyes are puffy and red and lifeless. She swallows. Her throat is raw from throwing up, even her breath feels acidic.

She turns the water back on and rinses her mouth, then gathers more water in her palms and wets her face again. And again. And again. Until her cheeks feel numb from the cold.

She dries off and looks back into the mirror.

Her cheeks are slightly flushed, hiding some of the remaining puffiness around her eyes.

She looks normal. She looks like herself.

Herself.

It still doesn’t feel like the right word.

_Where do I end and my avatar begin?_

_It doesn’t matter_ , she tells herself. _Right now, you’re one and the same._

_This isn’t real. But for now, it has to be._

_Who are you here? You have to know who you are. Who Jemma Simmons is!_

She looks at her watch and realizes that she has to head to the rendezvous point with Daisy in just a few hours.

Quickly, she reaches for the bathroom door and swings it open. She rushes into the hallway to head back to the lab, but her body is propelled backwards when she collides with someone.

She stumbles back, but two hands grab her arms and stabilize her.

“Hey, there you are!”

She looks up and freezes, clenching her jaw and swallowing hard, trying to stop herself from throwing up again, blinking away tears she hopes he doesn’t notice.

“We still on for tonight?”

He’s looking at her with his kind brown eyes. He’s smiling at her with his familiar wide smile that could brighten any room.

A ghost come back to life. He isn’t real.

“Tonight?” Jemma’s not even sure if she said it loud enough for him to hear.

“Our date? Remember? I asked you out. You said yes. We were thinking Italian?” His tone is chipper, carefree.

Nervously, Jemma rubs her forehead. “Yes, of course. Of course I remember.”

“Changing your mind?” He raises his eyebrows and looks at her teasingly.

Jemma shakes her head and forces a smile. “No. No, I wouldn’t—” She pauses and exhales sharply. “It’s just… I have to meet a contact. Fellow scientist. She… she knows someone at RadFitz Technologies. Hand’s been trying to get more intel on them. My… my contact insisted we meet in person.”

“Want me to tag along?”

Jemma smiles. Of course he’d offer.

“No. There’s no need to worry, Trip. She’s a gossip, probably hoping to get a free meal and some juicy stories out of meeting me in person.” Jemma shrugs. “I’m sorry to cancel our… date.” She forces the corners of her mouth into a smile, forces a happy appearance while struggling to keep her tears at bay.

“Postpone, right?” Trip squints his eyes. “Not cancel.”

Jemma chuckles sadly. “Right. Of course,” she lies.

He smiles at her. “Looking forward to it.”

Gently he nudges her arm with his elbow in passing and heads down the corridor.

Jemma turns around and watches him leave.

She had done it again. Lying. Easily. Effortlessly. At a friend.

It hurt more this time.

_He isn’t real,_ Jemma reminds herself.

And yet, she wishes he was.

Jemma exhales a shaky breath, rubbing away phantom tears, before heading back to the lab.

She had a bit more time.

_Who are you here? Who’s Jemma Simmons?_

She pulls up her own file. Born September 11, 1987 in Sheffield, England, UK. First Ph.D. at the age of 15. Recruited to S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy. Science and Technology Division. Second Ph.D. under Anne Weaver’s supervision. Youngest cadet to graduate. Sci-Ops at the Hub. Level 5.

Her life as she knew it. Everything was the same.

Except they hadn’t met. He hadn’t joined.

She continues to read.

She had been at the Hub when Hydra came out of the shadows and had managed to escape, severely injured, with a handful of other agents, including Weaver and Hand.

Hydra had come out on top. Hydra was out in the open in this world. Out to rule the world.

S.H.I.E.L.D.?

It didn’t exist. It had to go dark.

Whatever agents survived formed splinter groups, hiding in secret bases that Hydra hadn’t discovered… yet.

She’d gone undercover at Hydra for three months to gather intel, but had to be pulled out when someone had blown her cover.

_Some things never change_ , Jemma thinks.

She scrolls through her file, skips some of the medical reports, some of the mission reports.

Then she sees it.

Official status: _Deceased_.

Deceased. The word echoes in her brain.

She pulls up a browser and types in her own name.

There’s not much. Unsurprisingly.

Whatever was left of S.H.I.E.L.D. had to go dark. All traces of the surviving agents had to be deleted. Like in her own world, they had to become ghosts.

Jemma looks at the screen and clicks the first result.

> **_Jemma Anne Simmons,  
>  _ ** _aged 27, was taken unexpectedly and far too soon on November 8, 2014.  
>  _ _Devoted daughter to James and Margaret Simmons_

It’s a simple death notice in the Sheffield Telegraph.

Jemma tries to stop there. It’s enough information. She doesn’t need more.

But she can’t. Can’t stop.

She returns to the search results and clicks the next link.

_“No energy in the universe is created and none is destroyed”_ the title reads.

She begins to read her own obituary, written by her father.

And with every word she reads, Jemma feels a piece of herself die inside until all that is left of her is tears and nothingness.

Official status: Deceased.

Her parents had buried the memory of her in an empty grave.

_It’s not real,_ Jemma tells herself.

They had mourned the loss of a daughter who couldn’t tell them that she was alive.

_It’s not real. It’s not—_

But Jemma doesn’t seem to listen to herself anymore.

Herself.

Where did she end and her avatar begin?

Her avatar had ended.

Official status: Deceased.

Her avatar is dead.

She’s dead.

They’ve never met.

They’d never meet.

She’s dead.

She’s dead to the world.

She’s dead to him.

She’s always been dead to him.

They’ve never met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I don't know if Nov. 8, 2014 works with the Winter Soldier timeline, but in this universe it does ;)


	2. It’s empty in the valley of your heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your enthusiastic comments on Chapter 1. I hope you will enjoy how the story continues.

Jemma sits on the ground just to the side of the green entrance canopy, resting her back against the exterior wall of the apartment complex. She doesn’t care that everyone can see her. She doesn’t care that people are looking at her strangely.

She’s numb. Empty. Dead inside. Dead.

She glances at her watch. She’d been waiting for two hours.

Outside.

She couldn’t get inside. Couldn’t get to the agreed upon rendezvous point. Couldn’t get to the backdoor she had programmed to take them back home.

This world was different.

Here, the apartment, _their_ apartment, Daisy’s gift to them, wasn’t empty, wasn’t waiting to be filled with _their_ furniture, _their_ books, _their_ pictures, _their_ memories, _their_ future.

It was someone else’s home. Someone else’s breakfast nook. Someone else’s double-vanity sinks.

Jemma closes her eyes and a single tear rolls down her cheek.

Her eyes are burning. Dried up and yet yearning to shed more tears.

Because it feels as if tears are all that is left of her.

If she stops crying, she stops existing.

Two hours.

 _Stupid_ , she thinks.

They’d been so stupid. They’d been so reckless.

_I have to get him back._

It had been the only thought left in her brain.

And it had made her lose focus. It had made her reckless.

They hadn’t planned it.

They had located their avatars and plugged in.

They should have taken more time to study the code.

They had created a rendezvous point, a backdoor.

But they hadn’t checked if it was feasible.

They hadn’t checked if they were even in the same city, the same country, the same continent.

A perfect replica of their world.

Well it wasn’t.

It was neither perfect nor a replica. It was a distorted caricature.

Jemma had been lucky enough to land at the Playground like they had assumed.

But she had no way of knowing where Daisy had manifested.

And the thought had occurred to Jemma only when she had already been on her way to the rendezvous location.

It had been too late to use S.H.I.E.L.D.’s resources to find Daisy’s whereabouts.

_Stupid. So stupid. Reckless._

Two hours.

She had been waiting for two hours.

The sun was starting to set.

Jemma knows she should head back to the base. Pretend to live her life until she can figure out where Daisy is. Get Hand results. Meet Fury. Laugh at Hunter’s jokes. Go on a date with Trip. Could she? Would she? Should she?

Jemma knows she should head back, but she can’t get herself to move, to stand up, to leave.

_This isn’t real. Nothing is real._

She wants to break into the apartment upstairs and leave through the backdoor, leave this world behind, where everything is wrong and nothing feels right and they’ve never met and she’s dead.

But she can’t do that either. Not without Daisy. Not without them. Not without _him_.

_He’ll know. He’ll come. You’ll find a way._

She can’t leave. Not yet.

Daisy will come. She’ll _have_ to come.

_Please, Daisy, please!_

Jemma closes her eyes.

She’s numb. Tired. Empty.

She feels herself drift off to sleep as the sounds of cars, the clicking of high-heel shoes, and the chatter of people lull her in.

She doesn’t fight it.

_What’s the point?_

_It’s not real. Nothing is real._

Except for the pain. Except for the fear.

* * *

“Jemma?”

She’s not sure if it’s the sound of her name or the sensation of someone touching her arm that wakes her.

Her eyes shoot open and frantically she tries to scramble away from the hooded figure in front of her.

But there’s a wall behind her. Hard, cold stone. _No._ Not stone. _Concrete._

She tries to get up and feels the rough surface scratching the palm of her hand as she loses balance and glides back down to the floor. _No._ Not floor. _Sidewalk_.

It takes her a moment to remember where she is, who she is, why she’s here.

“Jemma. It’s me.”

Jemma stares at the hooded figure kneeling beside her, the long dark hair spilling out from underneath the thick fleecy fabric covering the stranger’s face.

And then Jemma catches a glimpse of those familiar brown eyes and a sudden wave of relief washes through her, so strong and forceful that it razes whatever defenses Jemma had managed to uphold to the ground.

Her shaking hands reach out to the only glimmer of hope still remaining in this virtual world as Jemma dissolves into tears.

She throws her arms around Daisy, pulling her closer.

For a moment, Jemma is back in the storage room at the base.

She feels just as vulnerable, just as tired, just as afraid. She feels just as lost and just as found.

“Daisy.” Jemma whispers the name over and over again and with each time the person cradling her in her arms manifests herself more, becomes real.

_You’re not alone. She’s here. You’re here. You’re alive. You’re alive to her. You exist. You still exist._

It feels like forever and yet still too short when Daisy slowly breaks their embrace. She wipes away Jemma’s tears.

“You’re the best-dressed hobo I’ve ever seen,” she jokes as she stands up and reaches her hand out to help Jemma up.

Jemma chuckles sadly and nods.

“Soooo, this world, eh? Not exactly how I’ve envisioned it.” Daisy’s eyes observantly glance to all sides.

“Certainly not. It’s quite—”

“Fucked up.”

The corners of Jemma’s mouth quirk up into a sad, grimacing smile. She presses her lips together, fighting back more tears and nods.

“I take it our backdoor is—”

“Occupied,” Jemma confirms.

Daisy nods knowingly. “Alright. Well. One problem at a time.” She looks around. “We should maybe try to get somewhere where we can talk more privately. This world seems to have eyes and ears everywhere.”

Daisy grabs Jemma’s upper arm and gently pulls her along, her eyes carefully searching the area until she gestures at a narrow alley with her head. Jemma nods. Nervously, she looks over her shoulder before following Daisy.

They walk to the end of the alley, until they’re out of view behind a large dumpster.

“Alright,” Daisy says and turns around. “Kinda looks like your day was worse than mine and that’s saying something. So… tell me.”

Jemma feels her eyes drowning in tears once more. She presses her eyes shut, clenches her jaw, tightens every muscle in her body, trying to fight another wave of overwhelming emotions.

“Jemma?” Daisy’s voice is gentle and quiet.

Jemma opens her eyes and tries to absorb some of the strength she sees in the brown eyes looking back at her.

“I’m dead.” Jemma’s voice is nothing but a whisper and she shrugs her shoulders in resignation.

Daisy’s eyes widen. “What?”

Jemma swallows hard, a thin curtain of tears clouding her vision. She exhales a shaky breath. “I’m with S.H.I.E.L.D.” She shrugs. “Well, what’s left of S.H.I.E.L.D.” She takes another deep breath. “I was at the Hub when Hydra attacked. I made it out but I was presumed dead.” Jemma feels a shiver run through her body, feels herself trembling, as it becomes more and more difficult to fight her emotions. She closes her eyes and inhales slowly. “My parents held a funeral for me, Daisy. I read my own obituary. Devoted daughter—” Her voice breaks off.

“Jemma.” Daisy’s eyes shimmer sadly in front of her and through her own tears Jemma sees her friend reach out a hand, feels the gentle comforting touch on her arm.

“I’m dead, Daisy. He thinks I’m dead.” Jemma doesn’t fight her tears anymore. She sets them free.

 _Tears are all that is left_ , Jemma thinks.

But then she feels Daisy’s arms pulling her closer, holding her tight and Jemma sinks into her friend’s embrace, realizing that it isn’t true.

There’s more. There’s hope. She’s not alone. They’re together.

Once again, Jemma draws strength from Daisy. Once again, she pulls herself up.

Jemma shakes her head, wiping away her tears, and slowly she feels anger replacing her despair.

“That’s not even true.” Jemma chuckles sadly. “He _doesn’t_ think I’m dead. He doesn’t know I ever existed.”

Daisy rubs Jemma’s arms up and down. “Fitz?”

Jemma shrugs. “We never met,” she explains. “Radcliffe changed his past. His father never abandoned him. He supported him, encouraged him, introduced him to Radcliffe when Fitz was still a kid. Radcliffe took him under his wings.” She scoffs. “He’s rich, successful. An entrepreneur with designer suits and model girlfriends and a private jet.”

Jemma sighs, biting her lower lip, wanting to feel physical rather than emotional pain. “We never met, Daisy. We never met and he’s living a perfect life.”

She closes her eyes, shaking her head, trying to shake away those tears that are trying to resurface. “How can I convince him to leave this world, Daisy? How can I—?”

She shrugs, but Daisy interrupts her.

“Hey! _Hey!_ ” Daisy grabs her shoulders, shaking her gently until Jemma looks up. Daisy’s eyes shimmer fiery, with a determination Jemma wishes she’d feel herself. “ _Listen!_ This is still Fitz! I mean… It’s _Fitz_. And Fitz _loves_ you. In _any_ scenario, in _any_ universe. He _can’t_ be living a perfect life because a life without you wouldn’t be perfect for him.”

Jemma chuckles sadly. “He never met me, Daisy. He can’t miss something he’s never met.”

Daisy shakes her head. “I don’t believe that! I _refuse_ to believe that! Okay!” She squeezes Jemma’s shoulders. “You two… You two are… _inevitable_!” Daisy pauses, and Jemma feels as if Daisy’s eyes are trying to scream the same words at her, trying to make her believe.

“He _knows_!” Daisy adds full of conviction. “He _knows_ something is missing and if he doesn’t _now_ then he’ll know the _second_ he sees you.” An encouraging smile flashes across Daisy’s face, and Jemma feels her lips twitching, unable to resist Daisy’s optimism.

“We’ll get to him, Jemma! And I know… I _know_ he’ll remember. He’ll remember _something_!” Daisy wets her lips and her eyes sparkle as if a fresh thought had found its way to the surface. “It’s still his mind, right? Maybe they replaced Fitz’s memories but—but they did that with Coulson, too, right? T.A.H.I.T.I.? And he _still_ remembered. There was _still_ something that triggered Coulson’s memories. His _real_ memories!”

Jemma straightens up, her eyes widening. “Memory traces,” She smiles briefly. “Yes. You’re… you’re right. A brain never fully erases anything.”

“Fuck yeah, I’m right,” Daisy exclaims. “I’m a fucking genius when it comes to brains and shit.”

Jemma looks at Daisy and can’t help but laugh.

_Of course!_

In all the chaos, through all the pain, she had forgotten that it was impossible to ever fully forget something.

_Quite ironic, to think of it._

Daisy smiles at her warmly, squeezing her shoulder once again. “Don’t give up, Jemma. We’ll find a way. Okay?”

Jemma nods, feeling her body and mind relax for what seems to be the first time since entering the Framework.

She takes a deep breath. “Alright! So, what’s _your_ story?”

Daisy grimaces, scrunching her nose and wrinkling her forehead.

“Daisy?” Jemma feels another wave of nervousness creep up her spine.

“I’m Skye.” Daisy shrugs. “I’m a hacker-slash-consultant. I don’t have my powers. And apparently… I’m with Ward.”

A cold shiver runs through Jemma at the mention of his name. “Hydra?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.

Daisy raises her eyebrows and tilts her head. “Well _that_ too, but—” Her eyes dart around nervously. “I mean… I’m _with_ Ward.”

“Oh!” Jemma grimaces in disgust.

Daisy scoffs. “Yeah. Tell me about it. I’m not sure how I’ve made it this far without throwing up, or slitting his throat or something.” She takes a deep breath. “I’m in L.A., close to Hydra HQ… Because of _course_ Grant Ward’s become a Hydra big shot in this fucked-up piece of virtual shit!” She shrugs. “That’s why it took me so long to get here. Wasn’t easy to convince Ward that I had to fly across the country without him shadowing me. Officially, I’m meeting a former buddy from the Rising Tide who _may_ have intel on the whereabouts of a S.H.I.E.L.D. splinter group.”

Jemma chuckles briefly. “I’m currently meeting a fellow scientist who knows someone at RadFitz Technologies. Apparently Director Hand is trying to figure out if they have ties to Hydra.”

“RadFitz Technologies?” Daisy lets out a little snort. “I’m gonna tease the fuck out of Fitz for that name when we get out of here.” She pauses. “Wait! Director _Hand_? As in Victoria Hand? Hand’s _alive_?”

“Yes, so is Trip.”

“Trip?” Daisy’s face lights up, but her eyes shimmer with tears.

“Yes,” Jemma confirms. “And Hunter’s back, too. I haven’t seen Bobbi yet, but who knows—”

“And they’re all still S.H.I.E.L.D.?” Daisy interrupts her.

Jemma nods.

“ _FUCK YES!_ ” Daisy raises a hand in triumph. “Finally some _good_ news. What about the others?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen any of them at the base and I didn’t… I only looked up Fitz and myself and then I had to come here.” Jemma shrugs, apologetically.

Daisy nods understandingly. “I wanted to research them but the damn airplane didn’t have Wi-Fi. Alright.” She rubs her hands together. “So, that’s next on the agenda. Find them. Get to them. Trigger a memory.”

Jemma doesn’t reply as her fears and doubts start a battle against the new-found optimism that Daisy had instilled in her.

“Jemma?”

“What if we can’t?” Jemma asks quietly. “What if their memories are buried too deep? What if we can’t get through to them?”

Once again Daisy’s hands reach for Jemma’s shoulders.

“We will!” Daisy’s eyes are unwavering. “You said that Fitz’s robo-impersonator told you that you had to be awake while he mapped your… the… that thing—”

“Frontal lobe.”

Daisy points at Jemma. “Right. _That!_ Which means, they were _all_ awake before they went in and they _knew_ what Radcliffe was doing and you _know_ they tried to fight it. And I bet my _ass_  they’re _still_ fighting it, even if it’s subconsciously. So _that’s_ the theory I’m gonna stick with until someone proves me wrong! Deal?”

Jemma nods, forcing herself to smile.

Daisy rolls her eyes. “Okay, Simmons, I’ll allow _one_ more pessimistic counter-argument.”

Jemma shrugs. “What if they don’t know, Daisy?”

“Don’t know what?”

“Where their bodies are being held?” Jemma rubs her eyes, trying to wipe away tears that haven’t reached the surface yet but are threatening to. “They may not have been fully unconscious while Radcliffe mapped their brains, but they presumably _were_ when they were taken to… wherever they are. We… we didn’t plan this through, Daisy. We—”

“We’ll figure it out!” Daisy interrupts her. “If _anything_ we can make sure they all wake up at the same time. Give them a fighting chance against whatever defenses Radcliffe has set up where he’s holding them. We’ll get them out, Jemma! We’ll figure something out. We _always_ do! We make a plan. Plan goes to shit. We make a new plan. We follow through. We win! That’s how we work. Let’s tackle _one_ problem at a time, okay?”

A shy smile appears on Jemma’s lips. “Okay.” She glances at her watch and sighs. “I should head back to the base. I’ve probably been gone far longer than they expected.”

Daisy nods. “Yeah, I’m gonna find a hotel and call my ‘boyfriend.’” She forms air quotes, grimacing in disgust.

Jemma raises her eyebrows and huffs sympathetically.

“Oh, here!” Daisy reaches for her back pocket and hands Jemma a burner phone. “Let’s plan on meeting here again in forty-eight hours, okay? Call if anything changes. Number’s in the battery compartment. I’ll research the others. You focus on your cover. We might need S.H.I.E.L.D.’s resources. I’d rather use them than—”

“Hydra.” Jemma nods understandingly.

“Yep.”

Jemma reaches for Daisy’s hand, squeezing it gently. “Be careful!”

Daisy nods. “You too.” She grabs Jemma’s arm with her free hand. “We’ll get them back, Jemma. I _know_ we will! You’re Jemma-fucking-Simmons and I’m a fucking Superhero.” She tilts her head. “Okay currently without my powers, but… I’m still fucking badass. _We’re_ fucking badass and we’ll get them back.”

Jemma chuckles and nods. “Forty-eight hours.”

“Roger that!”

Daisy looks past Jemma at the mouth of the alley. “We should leave separately. You go first.”

Jemma’s notices her heartbeat quicken. She’s not quite ready to leave Daisy behind, to feel alone again, but she knows it’s time.

She pulls Daisy into a hug, trying to commit the feeling to memory.

_You’re not alone. Daisy’s here. You’re here. You’re alive. He’ll know. He’ll come home._

Forty-eight hours.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge shout out to @AGL03 for the "Make a plan. Plan goes to rubbish. Make a new plan" idea (Yes, yes, you told me that that's actually a Hunter quote, but I had forgotten ;) )


	3. So tie me to a post and block my ears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for all the kudos and comments. Loving the feedback. Keep it coming. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter.

Jemma’s mind is occupied, trying to organize her thoughts when she arrives at the base. She has to put together results for Hand, research on the Inhumans. Shouldn’t be too difficult. Hopefully Fury hadn’t arrived yet.

The heavy metal doors of the elevator to the base open and Jemma steps into the hallway.

She’ll have to tell Hunter that her contact didn’t have any valuable intel on RadFitz Technologies. She’ll have to—

She stops when she notices the welcome committee that looks anything but welcoming.

Hand is waiting with her arms crossed in front of her chest, her red lips tight, her eyes glaring behind her dark-rimmed glasses. Hunter is standing next to her with an expression somewhere between sadness, denial, anger, and confusion. Two armed guards flank them.

Jemma swallows nervously, looking from person to person.

“Director Hand? What’s going on?” Jemma can’t shake the feeling that she already knows the answer. Something about the way Hunter stares at her with questioning eyes.

“Follow me, Agent Simmons.” Hand’s tone is stern and cold, even more so than Jemma remembers, and it’s clear that this is not a topic up for debate. Jemma would follow, voluntarily or involuntarily.

Her eyes fall to the ground. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Jemma takes a step forward, following Hand who has already turned around to strut down the hallway. The two armed guards position themselves on each side of Jemma.

She briefly looks up when she walks past Hunter, who glares at her, shaking his head in disbelief. She notices that his lip had been bleeding and there’s a cut above his eye.

_Daisy!_

Jemma can’t know for sure, except she does.

A panic rushes through her. Who had won that fight?

Jemma turns her head, trying to maintain eye contact with Hunter for a moment longer.

She wants to tell him, _I can explain_.

Except she’s not sure how.

And yet, she knows that’s probably what she’ll have to do.

Daisy’s words echo in her brain: Make a plan. Plan goes to shit. Make a new plan.

_How?_

Hunter falls in line behind the two guards, one of whom gently grabs Jemma’s shoulder, pushing her forward to keep pace with Hand.

* * *

“Sit down, Agent Simmons.” Hand gestures at the chair behind the interrogation table.

Jemma obeys without a word.

Her eyes follow the two guards who leave the room, closing the heavy door behind them.

Hunter pulls a pair of handcuffs from his back pocket and walks over to her. He grabs her wrist roughly, his angry eyes staring at her as he cuffs her to the table. He takes a few steps back and leans against the wall of the interrogation cell, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Jemma takes a deep breath and looks at the tall woman standing in front of the table. “I assure you this is unnecessary, Director Hand.”

The woman’s cold, neutral expression doesn’t change. “I assure you that is not your decision to make, Agent Simmons.”

Jemma looks at the table in front of her and sighs.

“I assume you know why you’re here.” Hand’s voice is stern but calm.

Jemma tries to focus, ignoring the loud hammering of her own heart. She glances up. “I have a _rough_ idea, and I—”

Hunter pushes himself away from the wall, closing the short distance to the table. He grabs her hair, pulling her head back.

Pain shoots down her scalp into her neck. _You’ve felt worse_ , she reminds herself.

“Headache? Huh? Fucking headache?” He glares at her, his face so close she can feel his breath on her cheeks. “I knew something was off. And then Trip tells me you cancelled your date. You haven’t shut up about that date since he asked you.” He lets go off her head, but continues to glare at her. “I knew something was off. I _knew_ it! And then I follow you and see you—” He slams both hands on the table and leans closer. “Who are you? Huh? Who—”

“Agent Hunter!” Hand’s booming voice puts an immediate end to Hunter’s outburst, who turns towards his superior, breathing heavily. Hand’s eyes are fixed on his when she continues to speak. “I agreed to let you be present during the interrogation but I’m _quite_ prepared to change my mind if you are unable to control your temper. Is that understood?”

Hunter nods. “Yes.” His head hangs low as he takes a few steps backwards to once again lean back against the wall.

“Very well then,” Hand says once Hunter is back in his corner. She looks back at Jemma, and Jemma feels as if Hand’s eyes are burning themselves into her soul. “Agent Simmons, I recall when the Hub fell. I recall how I submitted you to a quite painful test to determine your loyalty. A test, which _you_ —unlike many others—passed with flying colors. I recall how you were severely injured, protecting your mentor, Agent Weaver. I recall how we made it out of the Hub, your arm draped around my shoulders as Agent Weaver and I carried you to safety. I recall you agreeing to go undercover in Hydra only three month later despite the knowledge that this was a highly dangerous mission. I recall the valuable intel your mission brought us. I recall welcoming you back at this base, relieved that we had been able to get you out when your cover was blown. I recall that—encouraged by you—we ran _several_ scans and tests to ensure that you had not been brainwashed by the enemy. Once again, you passed these tests with flying colors. So, I assume you can understand that it came as a surprise when Agent Hunter informed me that you appear to be conspiring with a known Hydra associate.”

She places a tablet in front of Jemma, and Jemma gasps, seeing Daisy slightly hunched forward, chained to an interrogation table.

“What is your connection to Skye?” Hand’s voice remains unwavering, calm, cold, and yet it penetrates every cell in Jemma’s body.

Jemma blinks away tears, fighting the wave of nausea in her stomach. Her mind is racing.

_New plan. New plan. New plan._

“This isn’t real. This isn’t real.”

“Agent Simmons!” It’s only when Hand barks her name that Jemma realizes that she’s said it out loud.

Jemma looks up. Her eyes wander from Hand to Hunter, who’s still leaning against the wall, his jaw clenched.

She looks back at the screen, at Daisy’s immobile body.

_New plan._

Jemma takes a deep breath and raises her head.

“I will tell you everything, Director Hand.” She swallows, inhaling slowly, trying to conjure up the courage to take that next step. “But I need to make _one_ request.”

Hunter rushes back to the table, once again pulling her hair back. His eyes stare at her and Jemma once again notices the angry fire burning in them. “Why the _hell_ do you think you’re entitled to a—”

“That’s enough, Agent Hunter!”

Hunter immediately lets go of Jemma’s hair, as if Hand’s voice had cut his hand like a knife. He steps away from the table, raising his hands in defeat, his chest heaving up and down.

Slowly, Jemma moves her head, trying to relax her strained neck.

Hand steps closer and Jemma feels dwarfed next to the tall woman towering over her, her arms crossed, her lips fiery red, her eyes like sharp daggers.

“You’re free to make a request, Agent Simmons.” Her head tilts barely noticeably. “But I hope you realize that doesn’t mean I will grant it.”

Jemma nods. Her eyes briefly glance back at the video feed of Daisy. She takes a deep breath. “Put me in a lie detector.”

“Bloody hell!” Hunter exclaims throwing both hands in the air.

“Agent Hunter!” Hand waits until Hunter has fallen silent again, before returning her focus to Jemma. “Now why would you request that, Agent Simmons?”

Jemma holds Hand’s stare. “Because you won’t believe me otherwise.”

Her heart is hammering against her ribcage, but Jemma forces herself to breathe slowly, to keep her hands steady.

It was all or nothing. It was the only plan currently on the table and it had to work.

Hand turns her head. “Agent Hunter, tell Agent Koenig to set up the lie detector.”

A smile flashes across Jemma’s face.

Maybe her plan was insane. Or maybe it was just insane enough.

“Are you serious?” Hunter wrinkles his forehead.

Hand’s expression remains stern. “Agent Simmons is volunteering to answer questions strapped into quite possibly the most advanced lie detector ever created. I’d rather like the sound of that. So yes, Agent Hunter: I _am_ serious. Now go and tell Agent Koenig to get the machine ready. That’s an order!”

Hunter nods begrudgingly and leaves, as Hand stares after him.

“Thank you, Director Hand,” Jemma says quietly.

Hand’s head shoots around to face her. “I sincerely hope your little experiment will reassure me that the trust I’ve held in you all these years has been warranted, Agent Simmons. We can’t afford to lose more agents to Hydra, and I might just take a betrayal from _you_ a bit more personal than some of the others. I hope we’re clear.”

Jemma nods, unable to stop the corners of her mouth from quirking up briefly. “I assure you, Director Hand, my loyalties are with S.H.I.E.L.D. They’ve always been. And I plan on proving just that.”

* * *

_Some things never change_ , Jemma thinks as the all too familiar restraints hold her wrists in place, as the headpiece slightly digs into her skull.

Ninety-six variables, measuring everything from galvanic skin response to oxygen consumption, micro-expressions, biofeedback brain waves, pupil dilation, voice biometrics, and and and. A lie detector Romanoff couldn’t beat.

For a moment, Jemma wonders if this virtual version of the real machine had ever been tested on Grant Ward.

“We’re gonna start with some easy questions and establish a baseline. Could you state your full name, please?” Koenig says. Which one, Jemma had not yet figured out.

“Jemma Anne Simmons.”

“Excellent. Excellent. Your date of birth.”

“September 11, 1987.”

“Great. Just perfect.”

“Could we speed this along, Koenig.” As before, Hunter is leaning against the wall, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“No, we could not, Agent Hunter,” Koenig replies, taking his focus off the panel in front of him. “This baby is an engineering masterpiece that tracks ninety-six variables. You can’t rush these things. You rush them, you miss things. You want me to miss a lie and end up dead with your throat slit by a Hydra infiltrator.”

Jemma feels her muscles tightening at the memory of Koenig’s dead body in the pantry in Providence. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath.

“Alright. I’ll shut up.” Hunter raises his hands in defeat.

“Excellent,” Koenig exclaims. “Now. Agent Simmons. I’ll continue with a few more easy questions and then I’ll give Director Hand free reign. Where were you born?”

“Sheffield, England.”

“Your parents’ names?”

“James and Margaret Simmons.”

Contently, Koenig looks at the panel. “Well, that should do nicely for a baseline. Director Hand, she’s all yours.”

Hand steps in front of the lie detector. “Why did you meet with the hacker and Hydra affiliate named Skye?”

 _All or nothing_ , Jemma thinks.

“I did not meet with Skye. Her name is Daisy. Daisy Johnson. She’s an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. and I met with her because we’re here to rescue our friends.”

Hand slightly raises her head, the only indication that Jemma’s statement may have surprised her. Calmly, she turns her head. “Agent Koenig?”

“All parameters within acceptable limits. That was the truth, Ma’am,” Koenig replies, noticeably surprised.

Hand looks back at Jemma and steps closer to where she is strapped into the lie detector. “I’m the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. I believe I would know if the person Agent Hunter overpowered and who is currently being held in custody was one of our agents.”

Jemma can feel her fear clenching down on her throat, trying to suppress her voice.

_All or nothing. All or nothing._

Jemma swallows, forcing herself to reply calmly.

“No. You wouldn’t know. Because she’s not an agent in _this_ world.”

For a moment the room falls silent. Jemma focuses on Hand, whose eyebrows furrow barely noticeably. Once again, Jemma admires the woman’s ability to keep her poker face.

“Alternate universe? Awesome!” Koenig’s enthusiastic voice breaks through the quietness.

“Shut up, Koenig,” Hunter exclaims and takes a step towards his superior. “Hand… D-Director Hand, you can’t possibly—”

Hand slowly turns her head to face Hunter. “Agent Hunter, _I_ am conducting this interrogation. One more interruption and I’ll personally throw you out of this room.”

Hunter nods, but instead of returning to where he’d been standing, he walks behind the panel, looking over Koenig’s shoulder, who scoffs at him in amusement. “You think you’ll see something I don’t? It’s not like I’ve had 500 hours of training on this beauty or anything.”

Hand silences the two men with a single stare before returning her focus on Jemma.

“What do you mean, ‘not in _this_ world’?”

Jemma takes a deep breath. “This is a virtual world. Nothing here is real. Everything is programmed. Including you.”

“Woah!”

“Agent Koenig.” Hand doesn’t even turn around to face the overly excited agent this time.

“Yes, Ma’am. My apologies. It’s just so… so _awesome_.”

Hand briefly closes her eyes and exhales sharply, clearly annoyed by the constant distractions in the room.

Jemma wets her lips. “I realize that what I’m telling you sounds unbelievable, Director Hand, which is exactly why I’ve requested to be strapped into this machine.”

Hand’s eyes focus back on Jemma. “Continue,” she asks politely, nodding encouragingly.

Jemma can’t stop her lips from twitching into a quick smile. “This world is a duplicate of the real physical world. But there have been changes, such as the Hydra victory for example, or the fact that you’re standing in front of me now.”

Hand lifts her chin, the slightest hint of curiosity in her expression. “What do you mean?”

Jemma swallows, briefly taking her eyes of the impressive woman in front of her. “I’m afraid, you were killed when S.H.I.E.L.D. was under attack from Hydra.” Jemma looks back up. Hand’s expression is unchanged. “A Hydra infiltrator, Grant Ward, shot you while you were on your way to the Fridge with Agent Garrett, another infiltrator who had climbed the ranks within S.H.I.E.L.D.”

The tension in Hand’s jaw is barely noticeable. “I personally put a bullet into Mr. Garrett’s head during the assault on the Hub.”

The corners of Jemma’s lips twitch into a sad smile. “Well, I’m quite pleased to hear that, but unfortunately that’s not what happened.”

Hand scoffs and Jemma could swear she notices a hint of a curious sparkle in the woman’s eyes. “So, I’m dead,” she states matter-of-factly. “And yet I’m conducting this interrogation in what you’re telling me is a virtual world. Why? Why was this world created? Why are you here?”

Jemma feels a wave of relief rush through her. Hand was still listening, was still asking questions, seemed to put trust into the truthfulness of her replies, based on the lie detector results.

“Holden Radcliffe, the person who created this virtual world—called the Framework—has abducted several high-ranking S.H.I.E.L.D. agents and has uploaded their consciousness into the Framework against their will. He seems to believe that he has created a better world for them, a world defying death. Agent Johnson, the person you know as Skye, and I are here to rescue them.”

“Holden Radcliffe. Of RadFitz Technologies?”

“Well. That doesn’t exist in our world. Agent Johnson and I managed to escape the Playground, which—like here—is S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters. It was under attack from—” Jemma pauses, realizing that she was about to throw another unbelievable fact into the mix. “—from androids—so-called LMDs or Live Model Decoys—that Radcliffe had created to replace the agents he’d abducted and to eradicate all Inhumans under S.H.I.E.L.D.’s protection.”

“Androids? Awesome!” Koenig raises his hands apologetically, when Hand shoots him an angry glare.

Jemma continues, fixing her eyes on Hand. She was the one Jemma had to convince. The rest didn’t matter. Not right now. “We don’t know where Radcliffe is keeping our people prisoner. The way he designed the Framework… well, it has been impossible for us to trace the origin of the code. Therefore, we decided to hack into the Framework ourselves to find our people from the inside and get them out.”

“Is this bloody machine even working?”

Jemma and Hand look up to the panel, where Koenig is frantically trying to stop Hunter from pressing random buttons.

“Yes, yes, as long as you keep your fingers away from it, it’s working perfectly fine! All parameters are well within acceptable limits.”

Hunter tries to shove Koenig out of the way. “Yeah, well, I’m not buying it. Because she can’t possibly have been telling the truth.”

“Oh for crying out loud, Hunter.” Jemma’s not sure if it’s the smartest thing to do, but she’s just about had it with the interruptions. “Santa Claus is real. Star Wars: Attack of the Clones was the _best_ Star Wars movie _ever_ made and your middle name is _Clarinda_.” She pauses, breathing heavily, ignoring that all eyes are fixed on her. “ _There!_ Is the machine working, Agent Koenig?”

“Umm, yes,” Koenig mutters, his eyes nervously glancing at Hand. “Those… those were all lies.”

Hunter glares at Jemma. Then he steps away from the console and rushes towards Hand, while pointing angrily at Jemma. “She’s lying. I mean it’s complete bullshit. Hand. However she does it, you know she’s—”

“Out! Now!” Hand’s voice is booming as she stares at Hunter, unwavering.

“Hand,” Hunter mumbles quietly, but Hand grabs him by the arm and pulls him along to the door. She throws the door open and points to the hallway. “I gave you plenty of warning, Agent Hunter. _Out!_ ”

Hunter clenches his jaw but obeys his superior’s orders.

“Now, Agent Simmons,” Hand says sternly as she closes the door. She turns around and walks back to where Jemma is strapped in. “You will tell me everything from A to Z. And _then_ you will tell me what you’re hoping to _gain_ from telling me everything from A to Z. Understood?”

“Yes.”

Hand nods contentedly. “Let’s start with A then. Who are you?”

A smile flashes across Jemma’s face. “Everything you can read in my file up to the point where I joined the Academy holds true in this world as well as the real physical world. I’m Jemma Anne Simmons. Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.. Level 5.” She pauses briefly. “Although, well, we recently changed systems. The new Spectrum of Security is color-coded. I’m Level Orange, which _technically_ is a higher clearance level than Level 5, but then the use of colors is supposed to eliminate the relationship of superior and subordinate to a certain extent, making everyone feel more equal and well, it’s all a bit complicated and… I’m digressing, aren’t I?”

“Unless you consider this Spectrum of Security relevant to your story, I’d say you are,” Hand replies matter-of-factly.

“Well, like I said, up to the point of joining the Academy, my life in this world appears to have been identical to my life in the real physical world. But at the Academy, I met a fellow cadet, Leopold Fitz.”

“RadFitz Technologies?”

Jemma shakes her head in as far as the headgear allows her to. “No. Like I said, RadFitz Technologies doesn’t exist. Fitz and I didn’t meet Radcliffe until just about a year ago. This appears to be one of the changes that Radcliffe has made to the timeline in this world. He appears to have changed Fitz’s memories and it seems to have caused a ripple effect. In the real world, Fitz joined the Academy. We became science partners. Best friends. We worked at Sci-Ops until Agent Phil Coulson recruited us for a specialized mobile field unit.”

“Phil Coulson?” Hand raises her eyebrows.

“You know him?” Jemma is unable to hide a smile.

Hand scoffs briefly. “He’s married to Melinda May, who is Head of Security at Hydra.”

Jemma gasps. “No. No. That can’t be. May would _never_ support Hydra. In no… in no scenario. It’s not possible.”

Hand chuckles, and Jemma wrinkles her forehead at the unexpected reaction. It’s the most emotion she’s ever seen Hand express. “You’re right. Melinda May would never support Hydra. She’s our highest-ranking infiltrator. One of our biggest assets in our guerilla war against the most powerful organization on this planet.”

Jemma feels her muscles relax as a load is lifted off her mind. “May is S.H.I.E.L.D. Oh, thank God! I would _not_ want to have that woman fighting against us.”

“She was captured by Hydra during the fall. They tried to brainwash her. She pretended it worked. They sent her back to infiltrate us,” Hand explains matter-of-factly.

Jemma widens her eyes. “How can you be sure that she _wasn’t_ brainwashed? It’s next to impossible to withstand brainwashing.”

“We ran several tests to ensure that Agent May was still one of us.”

“And are you sure you can trust the results?”

“You tell me. You were the one who ran the tests.” One corner of Hand’s mouth quirks up ever so slightly.

“Oh. Well,” Jemma stammers and shrugs. “In that case, I suppose I would trust my own judgment.” Jemma pauses and furrows her forehead. “But… May… I mean, she would… they would test her… test her loyalty. Test that the brainwashing worked.”

“They did.” Hand crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Agent May passed with flying colors. They needed intel, we fabricated the intel they wanted. Empty safe houses that could be destroyed, leaving nothing but the ashes of people that were long dead. Your mission wasn’t compromised, Agent Simmons. We _let_ it be compromised.”

Jemma draws in a slow breath. “You jeopardized my life?”

Hand scoffs. “You knew the risks going in, Agent Simmons. Outing you as an infiltrator allowed Agent May to solidify her position within Hydra, gain their trust, climb the ranks. But it was also thanks to _her_ that we were able to get you out of Hydra’s grasp safely _and_ with an invaluable amount of intel.” Hand takes a step closer to the lie detector. “ _Yes_ , your life was at risk, but we had an exit strategy. At S.H.I.E.L.D. we take care of our own, Agent Simmons. I sincerely hope _that_ philosophy holds true in both of our worlds.”

“It does.”

Hand nods. “So, Phil is an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

A nervous smile flashes across Jemma’s lips at the sudden change of topic. “He’s the Director, actually? Well, _was_ Director until Jeffrey Mace was appointed, because Coulson thought the Agency needed a new face as we were working towards establishing S.H.I.E.L.D. as a legitimate institution again and he thought it would send a positive message if the new Director was Inhuman, although it later turned out that Mace wasn’t _actually_ Inhuman and so right now, Mace remains Director of S.H.I.E.L.D. in the public eye while Coulson has de facto been reinstated as Director behind the scenes. That was a bit more detailed than I had intended,” Jemma adds quietly.

Hand raises her eyebrows. “Phil as Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.? Surprising. The man has an _excellent_ reputation as an educator, but I’m having a hard time seeing him lead an organization like S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“Agent Coulson is a professor? At the Academy?” Jemma asks curiously.

“High-school.”

“Oh my.” Jemma can’t hide her surprise.

“So, Phil recruited you and Leopold Fitz?”

“Yes,” Jemma confirms.

Carefully, Jemma turns her wrists and moves her fingers. The restraints are starting to hurt, and her lips and throat are getting dry, but Jemma continues to talk.

She tells Hand everything.

Four years worth of major missions and threats.

S.H.I.E.L.D.s return.

The defeat of Hydra.

She could swear she sees the ghost of a smile on Hand’s lips at that point.

“So, who besides Leopold Fitz are the agents that Holden Radcliffe has abducted?” Hand asks after what feels like hours.

“Phil Coulson. Jeffrey Mace. Melinda May. And Alphonso Mackenzie… Mack.”

“And you and Sk—Agent Johnson?”

“We plugged in to rescue them and bring them back.”

Hand inhales slowly, never taking her eyes of Jemma. “And once that has been achieved.”

Jemma swallows and wets her lips. “We will shut down the Framework once and for all.”

Hand raises her chin, squinting her eyes barely noticeably. “And all of this, including myself will… vanish.” She shrugs, but there is no sense of judgment in her voice.

“Yes. Because—”

“We’ve never existed to begin with,” Hand finishes Jemma’s sentence.

The room falls silent for a moment.

“Director Hand,” Jemma begins. “I realize that—”

“Alright,” Hand interrupts her. “I believe we’ve reached Z. Which brings us to my other question: What are you hoping to gain from telling me everything from A to Z?”

_All or nothing. All or nothing._

“We need your help,” Jemma admits.

Hand’s expression remains neutral, unreadable. “By helping you, I would inadvertently end my own existence and that of everyone else. You’ve already told me that in _your_ world, the _real_ world as you call it, I’m dead. I’d vanish forever. Why should I help you?”

Jemma blinks, fighting back tears.

_All or nothing. All or nothing._

“Because these people, our colleagues, our friends did not choose to go into the Framework. They were forced to against their will.” Jemma takes a deep breath, trying to keep her voice from shaking. “We’re Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Director Hand. In this world and the other. You’ve said yourself: We take care of our own. We don’t leave our people behind. Not if there’s a chance. Whether you’re real or not. You’re our chance, Director Hand. S.H.I.E.L.D. is our chance.”

Jemma notices Hand’s lips twitch as the woman’s brown eyes look at her intensely through the black frames of her glasses.

“I will need to discuss this matter with my highest ranking officers.”

Jemma feels a tear roll down her cheek, as she tries to catch her breath. “Thank you,” she replies, barely above a whisper.

“I’m not promising anything at this point, Agent Simmons. I want to make that very clear.” Hand turns to the console, where Koenig has been surprisingly quiet for hours. “Agent Koenig, please release Agent Simmons from this contraption and take her to where we’re holding Agent Johnson. Grab a medical kit on the way. Agent Johnson may require some patching up.” She looks back at Jemma. “I believe you’re more than qualified to do that, Agent Simmons, wouldn’t you agree?”

Once corner of Hand’s mouth quirks up into a slight smile, and Jemma can’t help but smile in relief herself.

“Yes, absolutely.”

Hand takes a step towards the door, before turning back to face Jemma. “You are to remain in the cell until further notice, Agent Simmons. Is that understood?”

“Yes.”

Hand’s head turns in the other direction, toward the panel. “And remove Agent Johnson’s cuffs, Agent Koenig.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Absolutely. Not a problem.”

Hand nods and steps outside, closing the door behind herself.

Koenig excitedly shuffles from where he was standing behind the console to the lie detector and releases Jemma from the machine. “This is _so_ cool. I can’t wait to tell my brothers about this. They’ll never believe me. Virtual world. Androids. It’s like science fiction come to life.”


	4. So come out of your cave walking on your hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks so much for all your feedback and wonderful comments.

Her eyes shoot open and her head flings up. She tries to move her arms, but notices quickly that she’s cuffed to a table. Daisy looks around, ignoring the pounding in her head.

The interrogation cell looks familiar, although it’s been awhile since she’d been on the receiving end of things.

She blinks, feeling the cracking of dried-up blood on her eyebrow and the dull pain of her bruised cheekbone. Her tongue slowly glides across her lower lip, tasting the blood from her split lip. Her ribcage hurts, although she’s relatively sure nothing’s broken.

She had been quick, but Hunter had been quicker. She’d held back at first. It seemed wrong to attack a friend, but she had quickly realized that Hunter didn’t exactly consider her a friend, didn’t really have a reason to. So Daisy had started defending herself. She actually tried to use her powers on him at one point, having forgotten for a moment where she was. And the split second it had taken her to realize her mistake had been long enough for Hunter to knock her out with a well-placed punch.

Daisy wonders how long she’s been out. She hopes her instinct is correct and she’s at the Playground. She’s not sure why that’s a consolation, but it seems better than any alternative.

Daisy’s mind drifts off. _Jemma!_ It was no coincidence that Hunter had been there. He must have had followed Jemma.

Where the fuck was she?

What had they done with her?

Daisy jerks on her handcuffs.

_Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck **fuck**! Fucking Framework! Fucking Radcliffe! Fucking killer-robots! Fucking alternate reality with its fucked-up timeline. Fuck fuck fuck **fuck**!_

Daisy clenches her jaw and balls her fists when she hears a rattling on the door. Every muscle in her body is tense. Fight or flight! Except she can do neither.

The door opens and one of the Koenigs enters, smiling widely. “Ahhh, yes, Skye… I mean, Agent Johnson. Such a pleasure.”

_Agent Johnson?_

Daisy stares at the man in confusion, but when she catches a glimpse of the person following Koenig into the room, Daisy’s eyes light up.

Daisy notices a shy smile playing on Jemma’s lips and it lets her relax.

She watches Koenig walk over to the desk, placing a med kit on the table. “So sorry for Agent Hunter roughing you up. Loose cannon, that one!”

Koenig pulls a ring of keys out of his pocket and removes the cuffs.

“Well, alright then. I’ll leave you two alone,” he remarks and heads out the door.

Daisy watches him leave, massaging her sore wrists. She doesn’t speak until she hears the lock engage. “Not even virtual reality is safe from the Koenig clan?”

Jemma chuckles briefly. “I’m afraid not.”

Daisy raises her eyebrows. “So. Looks like our plan went to shit a lot faster than I thought.”

Jemma sighs, and Daisy notices her friend’s eyes growing serious. “Most certainly did.”

Wordlessly, Jemma walks over to the table and pulls up the second chair. She opens the med kit, puts on surgical gloves, and begins preparing several items to tend to Daisy’s wounds.

Daisy grimaces in pain, when Jemma begins cleaning the cut above her eye. “So, what Plan BCDEF did you decide on?”

Jemma shrugs. “The truth,” she says, never taking her eyes off Daisy’s injury.

Daisy glances up, trying to catch a glimpse of Jemma’s expression to see if the scientist had been serious, but Jemma is too focused on the task at hand to give Daisy any clues. “As in ‘Hey guys, you’re not real?’”

Jemma reaches for a butterfly closure on the table and brings it up to the cut above Daisy’s eye. “Something like that,” she says matter-of-factly while applying the adhesive bandage strip.

“And they _believed_ you?”

Jemma looks at her and shrugs. “I was strapped into a lie detector.”

Daisy’s eyes widen. “Shit. Seriously?”

“Yes.” Jemma looks almost apologetic. “I insisted. I figured it would be the _only_ way for someone to believe me.” She sighs. “Well… at least they were willing to listen… Hand that is.”

Daisy can’t help but let out a single laugh. “Seriously, Simmons, you’re like some serious miracle worker.”

Jemma chuckles sadly. “Well, I’d be a bit cautious to call it a miracle. Hand said she’d talk with her highest-ranking agents. She’s not promising anything, but my _hope_ is that maybe she’ll at least let us go. Maybe. Who knows? It was… it was all I could think of.”

Daisy notices the watery curtain of tears creeping into her friend’s eyes.

“No,” Daisy says quietly and reaches over to squeeze Jemma’s arm. “That was good, Simmons! Okay? That was a bold move! You’re fucking badass!”

A shy smile appears on Jemma’s face and she nods quietly.

Daisy inhales deeply. “Will admit though, the whole Hunter knocking me out and dragging my sorry ass here thing put a bit of a dent into my plan to head to my hotel and figure out where the others are.”

Jemma takes off the surgical gloves and puts them on the table before turning back to face Daisy. “Well. Hand helped a little bit in that regard during my interrogation.”

Daisy’s eyes widen. “She did? Spit it out, Simmons!”

Jemma exhales sharply. “May is Head of Security at Hydra.”

Daisy feels like someone punched the air out of her lungs. “No way! No _fucking_ way!” she exclaims. “May would _never_ —” Confused, Daisy stares at Jemma. “Why are you laughing?”

Jemma takes a moment to catch her breath. “Because expletives aside, that’s pretty much exactly what I said… and—”

“ _And?_ ” Daisy’s just about ready to grab Jemma by the shoulders and shake her.

Jemma shrugs. “May’s Head of Security at Hydra, but she’s _not_ Hydra. She’s—”

“Under-fucking-cover!” Daisy’s face lights up. “Of course! That makes _much_ more sense.” She looks at Jemma and wrinkles her forehead. “Although, I assume that means there’s not a ton of contact between her and S.H.I.E.L.D. then, right? Would jeopardize her cover.”

Jemma shrugs. “I assume as much.”

“Well, maybe we can use my Hydra contacts to get to her instead?”

“Yes, maybe.”

Daisy takes a moment to think, before looking back at Jemma. “So, Hand mention anyone else?”

“Yes… she… ummm… Coulson,” Jemma stammers, acting surprisingly fidgety.

Daisy squints her eyes. “What?”

Jemma widens her eyes and inhales slowly. “Well, first of all, he’s apparently… May’s husband.”

Daisy laughs out loud. “Well, at least they’re getting their shit together in one world or another. So, he’s S.H.I.E.L.D. too then, right?”

Jemma presses her lips together, shaking her head vehemently. “No. He’s… he’s a high-school teacher.”

“Fuck!” Daisy chuckles. “Can you imagine Coulson in a tweed jacket with elbow patches in front of a bunch of teenagers?”

A hint of a smile flashes across Jemma’s face.

Excitedly, Daisy jumps in her chair. “Oh my fucking god! Think about all the dad jokes he bores his students to death with.”

Jemma laughs out loud, and for a moment the two women allow themselves to bathe in a moment of silliness.

Then Daisy’s face grows somber. “Although, he probably cares. I mean, _really_ cares about them.”

Jemma smiles. “Yes. He’s always been quite fatherly, hasn’t he?”

Daisy nods.

Silence settles in the bare interrogation cell and it’s only then that Daisy finally takes a moment to look at her friend.

Jemma’s expression is stoic, her head held high, but her eyes seem empty and tired. Her skin is pale, ashen almost.

As if she knew that she was being observed, Jemma puts on a shy smile. But it’s nothing but a façade, a fragile wall built of translucent glass, behind which Jemma’s exhaustion and despair remain visible.

“How you holding up?”

Jemma chuckles sadly. “Barely,” she admits, trying to blink away tears. “Even if Hand agrees to help us we still have so many obstacles in our way. We have yet to locate Mack and Mace. I have _no_ idea how to even get close to Fitz. How to convince them that they don’t belong here. Our backdoor is still inaccessible.”

Daisy notices her friend’s trembling hands. She grabs hold of them and looks Jemma in the eyes. “One crazy, shitty problem at a time, okay? You just talked us out of a real fucking dead-end.”

A tired smile flashes across Jemma’s face and she nods silently, her eyes drifting to the floor.

“How ‘bout you try and sleep for a little bit?” Daisy suggests, gesturing at the wall of the room.

“No, I can’t, I—”

“Simmons!” Daisy interrupts her. “If Hand’s talking to her top crew, telling them that they’re living in some sort of Matrix, it might be a while, don’t you think? You need to rest. I’m right here, okay?”

Daisy gazes into her friend’s eyes and gently squeezes Jemma’s hand.

She can feel it too, the draining of her battery, her energy reservoirs almost depleted. But it’s not the same.

Her friends were missing. She had to fight her way out of a base they called their home. She had been injured. She had been beaten. She’d woken up in a world turned upside-down. She had to see their plan destroyed, scrambling to use the scattered pieces to form a new one, just like Jemma.

But it wasn’t the same.

It wasn’t the same, because Daisy didn’t have to ram a knife into the body of someone who looked, and talked, and thought like the person you’d imagined spending the rest of your life with.

Jemma had been through hell and back. Not for the first time. And yet she had somehow managed to pull herself out of the mud over and over again. She had risen from the ashes like a phoenix. Had taken strength from the pain she had to endure.

Her petite exterior fooled most into believing she was weak, but Jemma was one of the strongest people Daisy had ever met. A force to be reckoned with. A warrior, armed with a brave heart and a sharp mind and determination.

But now this warrior was bleeding out in front of her. She had fought through attack after attack after attack. Attacks against her body. Attacks against her mind. Attacks against her heart.

And yet, she was still trying to stand tall, to put on a brave face, to keep marching forward.

But Daisy knows it can’t go on forever. At some point, your body won’t let you keep marching anymore. No matter how determined you are. At some point, all that’s left is to allow yourself to slide down a wall, beaten and bleeding, and ask for help from the one person you can turn to.

“I’m right here!” Daisy repeats.

Jemma’s lips quiver, as a grateful smile seems to battle against the onset of tears.

Jemma presses her lips into a thin line and nods. Her voice is shakey when she replies. “Okay.”

* * *

Daisy’s not sure how much time has passed, when she hears someone at the door. Carefully, she wakes Jemma, whose head is resting in her lap. Simmons seems startled and disoriented for a moment, but scrambles to get up when she notices Victoria Hand enter.

Daisy gets up more slowly.

The tall woman’s expression is just as Daisy remembers. Neutral. Cold. Impossible to read.

Hand lifts her chin at the guard by the door, instructing him to close it. She waits until the door falls into its lock before turning to face Daisy and Jemma.

“That was undeniably one of the most unusual meetings I’ve ever held.” Hand crosses her arms in front of her chest. The corner of her mouths quirks up ever so slightly. “It was certainly a smart move to insist on the lie detector test, Agent Simmons. The testimony you gave left my team no choice but to be convinced of its truthfulness.”

“How did they react?” Daisy notices the nervousness in Jemma’s voice.

Hand takes a deep breath. “Well, everyone reacts in their own way, I would say. Agent Hunter for example appears to be determined to solve the problem by giving himself the mother of all hangovers.”

Daisy glances at Jemma, who’s blinking away tears, biting her lower lip in guilt.

“So, what now?” Daisy asks when Jemma remains silent.

Hand shifts her gaze to look at Daisy. “We will help you rescue Agents Coulson, May, Mace, Mackenzie, and Fitz.”

Daisy turns her head when she hears Jemma gasp. She reaches over and gently places her hand on Jemma’s back, whose body seems to be trembling, fighting back tears.

Hand continues matter-of-factly. “Not everyone agrees with me, but I assure you that my orders _will_ be followed.”

“No doubt about that,” Daisy replies.

“That being said… any and all actions regarding this rescue mission will have to be approved by me. I will _not_ tolerate solo-escapades.” Hand pauses, staring at Daisy and Jemma, her posture and tone emanating authority. “This _may_ be a virtual world, but as long as you are _here_ , _this_ is your reality and you _will_ obey by its rules. We are S.H.I.E.L.D. We have an enemy to overcome. We have a duty to protect the people of this world, of this reality. And I expect your cooperation. You have my word that we will do whatever we can to help you locate and engage with the agents held hostage in this world, but you have to understand that other missions may have to take priority. Is that something we can agree on?”

“Yes.” Jemma’s voice is firm but barely above a whisper.

“Hells yes,” Daisy exclaims enthusiastically, taking a step forward. “Thank you, Director.” She pauses briefly. “And, just in case that wasn’t clear: _Skye_ may be Hydra, but I’m _not_. I’ll gladly give you _any_ intel I can find about those Nazi bastards. Ward’s pretty high up, but from what I can tell, he’s giving me a lot of freedom, being his hacker-girlfriend and all that.”

One corner of Hand’s mouth pulls into a hint of an appreciative smile. “Excellent. I was hoping you’d offer, rather than having to convince you, Agent Johnson.” She uncrosses her arms and lifts her chin, towering a good six inches taller than Daisy. “Now, before we fully release you, I have to insist on subjecting you to a lie detector test as well, Agent Johnson. For good measure.”

Daisy shrugs briefly. “Definitely not a problem.”

Hand nods in acknowledgement before turning to look at Jemma, who’s been standing quietly next to Daisy, seemingly in a state between shock and relief. “Agent Simmons, you’re welcome to leave this room, but it should go without saying that you are to remain on this base until further notice. Any and all actions taken with regard to your rescue mission—”

“Must be approved by you,” Jemma finishes Hand’s sentence, as if she’d been suddenly released from her state of daze. “Yes. I understand, Director Hand.”

Hand tilts her head ever so slightly and nods. “Very well then. Agent Johnson, please come with me.” She gestures towards the door.

Daisy briefly glances at Jemma, before taking a few steps forward past Hand.

“Director Hand?”

Both Hand and Daisy turn back to look at Jemma at the sound of her voice.

“Yes?” the Director remarks.

A grateful smile flashes across Jemma’s face. “Thank you.”

* * *

Jemma walks into the common room and sees Trip sitting on the couch. He smiles at her widely when he notices her.

Of course he would.

Jemma smiles shyly and walks over to where he’s sitting.

She swallows, noticing her heart beating nervously in her chest. “I believe I owe you an apology.”

Trip lets out a single laugh and waves her off. “Nah. It’s… it’s weird as fuck, but… Don’t sweat it.”

His eyes sparkle happily, and Jemma wonders if there was anything that could faze the man’s exuberant positive attitude.

Jemma scoffs briefly. “I’m afraid that’s easier said than done.”

She gestures at the empty space next to him with questioning eyes, and he welcomes her with a friendly nod.

Jemma sits down and Trip shifts to look at her more directly. “So, when I asked you out and you said yes that was—”

Jemma shrugs. “Not me.” She pauses, wrinkling her forehead. “Well, it… it _was_ but it was a programmed version of myself, based on—” She rolls her eyes. “Gosh, I don’t even know what it was based on.” She sighs. “This damn book.”

Trip raises his eyebrows. “Book?”

Jemma lets out a disgruntled groan. “Nevermind.” She chuckles briefly when she notices his confused look. “I believe I don’t have to add any more confusion than I already have… but like I said, it was nothing but a programmed version of myself, and as soon as I logged into the Framework and into my avatar, my real memories and experiences overwrote the program and so—”

“You had no clue that I had asked you out.”

“Exactly. I’m sorry.”

Trip shakes his head. “Weird. As. Fuck.”

Jemma can’t help but chuckle quietly, relieved when she notices Trip joining her.

“So,” he says, wiping away some tears of laughter. “This world is a replica of yours… but different?”

Jemma nods. “Yes.”

“So, that means I’m there, too, right?” Trip gestures between the two of them. “Did we ever meet? Or you know—?” He raises his eyebrows suggestively.

Jemma lets out a quiet laugh. “Yes, we met and no, we never—” She pauses, tilting her head from side-to-side. “I mean… you were charming and handsome and flirty and I enjoyed your company but—”

Trip squints his eyes, questioningly. “Were? Past tense?”

Jemma draws in a slow, nervous breath before exhaling a sharp puff of air. “Yes.”

Trips expression grows more serious. “How?” he asks calmly.

Jemma presses her lips together. She briefly closes her eyes, before looking into Trip’s trusting brown eyes. “You tried to protect Daisy… well, she was still Skye then.”

Trip raises his eyebrows and clicks his tongue. “Heroic death? Well, better than the alternative.”

Jemma huffs in surprise, wrinkling her forehead. “Is it?”

Trip shrugs. “I’d rather go a hero than… choke on a meatball or something.”

He grins mischievously and Jemma can’t help but laugh.

“Well, I suppose if _that’s_ the alternative.”

Trip smiles. “So, you said we flirted?”

Jemma sighs, feeling slightly blindsided by the sudden change in topic. “Yes.” She shakes her head slightly. “Well, _you_ flirted. I’m really not very good at it.”

Trip chuckles. “But we never—?”

“No,” she replies quietly.

Trip nods knowingly. “There was someone else.”

An involuntary smile flashes across Jemma’s face. “Yes.” She pauses and exhales sharply through her nose. “And no. I mean… he… Fitz—”

“Leopold Fitz?” Trips eyes have doubled in size.

Jemma chuckles quietly. “Yes. He was… he _is_ with S.H.I.E.L.D. and we were best friends and lab partners for almost ten years and—”

“Then you became more than that.”

“Yes. Well, not when you were around. Fitz and I didn’t get involved romantically until later… much later, actually, because… well, we were a bit slow to admit… and… well… especially me… it took me awhile to realize—” Jemma stops herself when she notices her own rambling. She takes a deep breath to refocus. “But even though we were not together when you were still alive and… well, clearly interested in me…the feelings I developed for Fitz were probably already there but just… well—”

“Boiling under the surface.”

“Yes.”

Trip tilts his head. There’s still a hint of a smile playing on his lips, but it’s mixed with a sense of sadness in his eyes. “Not gonna lie: it stings a little. Thinking that if I had asked you out a week sooner, I’d at least would have gotten a date out of it before your real world mucked up this fantasy.” He chuckles sadly.

Jemma resists the urge to touch his arm reassuringly, realizing that it would probably only make matters worse. “I’m sorry, Trip.” She shakes her head. “I feel awful. You deserve so much better and I… I wish we—”

“Stop right there.” Trip interrupts her, raising his index finger. “Do I like you? Hell yes! Would I have loved to go on a date with you and see where that takes us? Hell yes! Will I live because you love somebody else?” He pauses and shrugs, a playful grin adorning his face. “Well, apparently not, ‘cause I’m dead, but… I’ll be just fine. I promise you that.”

Jemma chuckles, biting her lip to try and keep the tears bubbling below the surface at bay. “You’re an amazing human being, Antoine Triplett, you know that?”

He pushes his lower lip forward and lifts his shoulders. “Yeah, I’m not bad for a simulation.”

Jemma laughs out loud.

Trip lifts his chin. “So. Leopold Fitz. The one _here_. He doesn’t know you exist.”

Jemma shakes her head. “No. But… but I hope he’ll remember… remember _me_ or… _something_.” She wipes away a tear that has escaped her tired eyes. “I have to bring him home. Him and the others.”

“No worries,” Trip says reassuringly. “We’ll help you.”

Jemma smiles shyly. “Thank you.”

Trip pats her on the arm. “So, now that things between _us_ are clear… maybe you should—” He gestures towards the kitchen.

Jemma turns around and notices Hunter, leaning on the counter, a half-empty bottle of whiskey in front of him and an empty glass in his hand.

She sighs and turns back to look at Trip. “We’re pretty good friends here, aren’t we?”

Trip scoffs. “That’s an understatement. You’re like a little sister to him… and let’s face it, eighty percent of the time, you’re the only one who has _any_ clue as to what he’s even saying.”

Jemma chuckles. “Well, his London accent really isn’t so bad.”

“Easy for you to say,” Trip teases her.

Jemma smiles. “It’s strange.” She wrinkles her forehead. “Hunter and I, we were… we were never terribly close. I mean… he was far closer with Fitz… probably felt like he needed to be on Fitz’s side, since I… well… I don’t need to confuse you with details, I suppose, since… well things were a bit complicated to say the least.”

“You’re using past tense again,” Trip remarks. “Hunter dead too?”

Jemma shakes her head. “No. No, he’s… he’s just no longer with S.H.I.E.L.D.” She sighs. “I always liked Hunter. He’s straightforward and honest in his blunt, sarcastic way and I always wished we could have been closer.”

“Well, in _this_ reality, you two are close. You’re probably the closest thing to family he has. So… maybe here’s your chance to—”

Jemma takes a deep breath, straightening up and pressing her hands against her thighs. “You’re right. Here’s my chance!”

She pushes herself to standing and looks back at Trip. “Thank you.”

He winks at her. “You got it!”

Jemma turns around and for a moment only stares at the sad-looking figure in the kitchen.

She inhales, gathering the courage to walk over to him. It takes effort to get her feet to move, but eventually, they comply.

* * *

“May I join you?” Jemma asks shyly, once she’s reaches the kitchen counter.

Hunter doesn’t look up. Instead he refills his empty glass. “Can’t a non-existent man drink his perfectly programmed, non-existent whiskey in peace?” he asks through his teeth, his speech slightly slurred.

Jemma looks to the ground. “I’m sorry, Hunter.”

Hunter scoffs, taking a sip from his drink. “Well, it’s not like you created this virtual shithole. You’re just here to take it down.” He looks up, glaring at her with sad, angry eyes. “Well, be my guest!”

Jemma sighs. “Hunter,” she says quietly.

He looks away, staring at the gold-brown liquid in his glass, but Jemma notices a shimmer of tears in his eyes.

“Fuck off, Simmons,” Hunter mutters before emptying the glass and immediately reaching for the bottle to refill it.

Jemma blinks away a few tears of her own and looks to the ground. She slumps her shoulders in resignation and takes a step back. “I’m sorry, Hunter. I know that… I know it doesn’t change anything but—”

She lifts her head, staring at Hunter, trying to will him to look at her, but he won’t comply. Jemma exhales sharply. “Seeing you was… well, it was one of the few things that made this… this virtual shithole bearable.”

Jemma’s about to turn around when Hunter’s voice makes her stop.

“You knew me there?” he asks quietly, his head barely turned enough to look at her through the corners of his eyes.

A hopeful smile flashes across Jemma’s face. “Yes.”

Hunter scoffs. “Fuck. Am I dead too, like Hand?”

Jemma shakes her head. “No.” She pauses, wrinkling her forehead. “Well, I don’t _think_ so.”

Hunter looks at her in confusion.

“You … you decided to leave the agency—be disavowed—after a highly unfortunate incident involving the death of three Russian government officials that could have lead to full-fledged war if it had been revealed that you were in fact working for S.H.I.E.L.D.”

Hunter continues to stare at her in silence.

“But… well, I think you and Bobbi are _far_ too good at what you do and too stubborn to let yourselves get killed.”

Hunter’s eyes widen. “Bobbi?”

“Yes,” Jemma confirms, feeling her heartbeat quicken at the sight of tears in Hunter’s eyes.

“She… she’s alive?” He puts his glass down, gazing at Jemma with a look of anticipation.

“Yes. I take it… here—”

Hunter swallows and looks away, his hand once again reaching for the glass as if it were a safety buoy. “She was killed when S.H.I.E.L.D. fell. Some kind of suicide mission on an aircraft carrier. Some top-secret bullshit that couldn’t get into the enemy’s hands. Fury’s orders.”

He shrugs and glances back at Jemma. “Her death was the reason I joined. When Hand approached me, I… I somehow thought fighting on S.H.I.E.L.D.’s side, doing what she’d have done… it’d make up for… all the things I never told her.”

Jemma exhales a shaky breath, trying not to succumb to the sadness welling up inside of her. She reaches out her hand, hesitating for a moment, before placing it on Hunter’s arm. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Hunter.”

A sad smile flashes across Hunter’s face, as his eyes wander from Jemma’s hand on his arm to her eyes. “So, Bobbi, she’s… we’re… Are we together?”

Jemma squeezes his arm reassuringly. “Yes.” She smiles. “Bobbi once told me that your relationship has always been a bit of a rollercoaster… but when you two left… when you _had to_ leave, it was—” She shrugs. “It was more of a quiet gondola ride, I think.”

Hunter lets out a quiet laugh. “Fugitives on the run doesn’t sound like a gondola ride to me.”

Jemma chuckles. “Well, not _that_ part… but your relationship.”

Hunter huffs. “Sounds weird maybe, but knowing that there’s a world where Bobbi’s alive and tolerating my annoying London arse just about makes this virtual shithole a bit more tolerable.”

Jemma can’t help but laugh out loud.

Hunter looks at her in silence for a moment, but his expression is far from the angry glare he had given her earlier.

He walks over to the kitchen shelves, grabbing another glass before returning to the counter.

“So,” he begins, pouring whiskey into the new glass and pushing it in Jemma’s direction. “Leopold Fitz. He’s one of the ones that are held prisoner somewhere?”

Jemma accepts his peace offering and takes a sip of the liquid. It leaves a welcoming burning sensation in her throat. “Yes.”

“You asked me about him,” Hunter remarks, bringing his own glass back to his lips.

“Yes.”

Hunter tilts his head slightly and squint his eyes. “Is he… is he your Bobbi?”

Jemma chuckles quietly and watches the golden drink in her glass swirl around. “I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”

“We’ll get him back.”

Jemma looks up, unable to hide a smile. “Thank you.”

Hunter nods barely noticeably, one corner of his mouth briefly twitching upwards.

He downs the whiskey and forcefully puts down his glass. “S’ppose I should call it a night.”

Jemma nods understandingly. “I could make you a concoction to help with the hangover,” she suggests, smiling shyly.

“Nah.” Hunter waves her off. “It’ll be a programmed hangover anyways, right? What’s not real can’t hurt me.”

Jemma chuckles and shrugs. “I’m not convinced your theory will hold up, but I suppose there’s only one way to find out.”

“Exactly!” Hunter exclaims, pointing his index finger at her.

He takes a step forward and gently squeezes Jemma’s shoulder. “Hang in there, Simmons,” he remarks, before heading towards the door in a slightly crooked line.

Jemma watches him leave and her face lights up when she notices Daisy entering the common area.

She glances at her watch. “Wow. I had no idea how much time had passed.”

“Yeah,” Daisy mutters, pulling out one of the bar stools and plopping down exhaling an exhausted groan “Tell me there’s more where that came from!” Daisy gestures at the glass with whiskey in front of Jemma.

“I’m sure Hunter won’t mind.” Jemma smiles and grabs a glass for Daisy, pouring her some of Hunter’s private stack.

“Man, that woman is even more pedantic than you are,” Daisy teases, taking a sip from her glass.

“Hey!” Jemma protests.

Daisy tilts her head. “Simmons.”

Jemma rolls her eyes. “Fine, but there’s nothing wrong with a bit of thoroughness.”

Daisy snorts, almost inhaling her whiskey.

“She kept you in the lie detector the whole time?” Jemma asks.

Daisy shakes her head. “Nah, but then she introduced me to the leader of a super-secret team of Inhuman operatives… called the Secret Warriors.”

Jemma’s eyes widen. “As in the team you and Coulson were putting together?”

Daisy nods. “Yep. Although they seem to be a bit of a bigger deal here. Almost made me jealous.” Daisy takes another sip of her drink. “Wanna take a wild guess who the leader of this team is?”

Jemma shrugs. “Elena?” she guesses excitedly, but Daisy shakes her head.

Jemma looks to the ground. She can’t get herself to suggest the other name that’s burning on her tongue.

“It’s not Lincoln,” Daisy says, as if she had read Jemma’s mind.

Jemma looks back up. “Then who?”

“He calls himself The Patriot.” Daisy puts on a fake serious face and puffs out her chest.

Jemma wrinkles her forehead. “The Patri—?” She gasps. “Mace? But Mace’s not actually Inhuman!”

“Well, he is here. Must be one of Radcliffe’s changes.” Daisy shrugs.

“Why didn’t Hand mention him to me?” Jemma squints her eyes. “I _know_ I brought up his name.”

Daisy lets out a deep sigh. “Apparently the Secret Warriors are so secret that your Level 5 clearance isn’t high enough to know about them.”

Jemma scoffs. “Oh, that’s just… my Level 5 clearance isn’t high enough, but she can tell a known Hydra associate? What on—?”

“Simmons. Big picture here, okay?” Daisy grins at her somewhat mischievously, and Jemma falls silent with a slightly annoyed eye-roll. “I told Hand that I was Inhuman during her interrogation. She mumbled something to Koenig, who then left. My guess is, he told Mace and Mace decided I was worthy of knowing about his little A-Team. He’s a patriot, alright, but he’s also a bit full of himself… and I got the impression that even though he knows now that he’s living in some fucked-up version of The Wizard of Oz, he’s not really interested in leaving.”

“What? But—”

“One problem at a time, Simmons, okay? Let’s get to everyone first, before we try to figure out how to convince them to come back.”

Jemma nods, forcing a smile, but there’s a lump in her throat, a nervous tingle under her skin, the uneasy fear that Fitz won’t want to leave either.

“Fitz isn’t Mace,” Daisy remarks, reaching over to place her hand on Jemma’s arm. Once again, her friend seems to be able to read Jemma’s mind.

Jemma’s chin quivers as she feels tears rising to the surface, as the haunting memories of the last few days return to cloud her mind.

Daisy puts down her glass and pulls Jemma into a tight hug. “Fitz will come back to you. He’ll _always_ come back to you.”

Jemma wraps her arms around Daisy, crying against her friend’s shoulder.

_Fitz isn’t Mace. He’ll know. He’ll come home._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to enlighten me with your favorite Phil Coulson dad jokes in your comments :)
> 
> My wonderful beta reader @marvelthismarvelthat had some suggestions:
> 
> 'hey mr coulson, i was thinking-'  
> 'oh i thought i smelled something burning'
> 
> 'hey, kids! have you guys watched the movie, constipation?'  
> '.... no?'  
> 'that's because it hasn't come out yet!' 
> 
> 'hey, hey, johnny, hey.'  
> 'yes mr coulson?'  
> 'do you know how they make holy water?'  
> '.... no'  
> 'they burn the hell out of it'
> 
> +++++
> 
> What's next? Well I think it's about time we check in to see what Leopold Fitz is up to.


	5. ‘Cause I have other things to fill my time

It had been four days since Hand had agreed to help them, and ever since, Jemma had tried to find some kind of routine and normalcy in her old-yet-new role as Jemma Simmons, Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D..

Daisy had returned to L.A. only a few hours after Hand had subjected her to a lie detector test and had introduced her to The Patriot. She had reported back that Ward had bought her story that the Rising Tide contact she had met in DC turned out to be a pro-S.H.I.E.L.D. activist, trying to gain intel and get herself an in with the discredited agency.

Apparently, Ward had particularly enjoyed the part where Skye had beat the crap out of this wannabe goody-two-shoes. Daisy had not yet managed to get in touch with May or Coulson. She had done her best to dig into Hydra’s information network, but had not found any evidence that RadFitz Technologies had direct ties to Hydra.

Jemma tried to keep busy. She had proven herself to be valuable to S.H.I.E.L.D.. The knowledge of Inhumans and Inhuman DNA she had acquired in the real physical world went far beyond what her Framework avatar had achieved. Hand and Fury were extremely pleased with her insights.

But once her work was done for the day, Jemma shifted her focus to Fitz. She read every article on him, watched every interview, used any and all S.H.I.E.L.D. resources to try and dig up whatever insignificant information she could find on him, trying to reassure herself that this was still Fitz. Her Fitz.

But Hunter had been right, it remained a mystery whether Leopold Fitz of RadFitz Technologies was a complete arrogant wanker or just not particularly keen on having his private life laid out in the open for everyone to see and discuss. Or maybe it was a bit of both.

He rarely gave interviews by himself and it was noticeable that Radcliffe did most of the talking whenever they appeared together. Fitz generally remained distant or bored in the background.

His expression was always stern, annoyed, even when the beautiful women by his side beamed at the camera with sparkling eyes, sparkling necklaces, and sparkling dresses, leaning nonchalantly on Fitz’s shoulder.

He had a reputation for having a temper, blowing up in front of the press, particularly tabloid journalists who invaded his private space. It was understandable, really.

In her days of searching for every sliver of information on Fitz, Jemma really only had seen one picture that made her hopeful that Fitz’s true nature hadn’t been entirely erased by the changes Radcliffe had made to Fitz’s past.

Following a devastating earthquake in Chile, RadFitz Technologies had donated large sums for medical equipment as well as to support the rescue operations. _That_ part of the story was all over the news, and they had only been one of many companies who had used the event to boast good publicity. But then, Jemma had found an article in a small Chilean local newspaper, published almost a year after the natural disaster. Fitz had visited an orphanage in one of the areas most affected by the earthquake. Apparently, RadFitz Technologies had donated prosthetics and covered the costs of surgeries for several of the children who had lost their parents during the catastrophe. Seemingly no other news outlet had reported on Fitz's visit to Chile, making Jemma believe that the whole operation had been kept under wraps. The article included a picture of Fitz squatting down to eye level in front of a girl of maybe six years. Fitz’s hand was stretched out as he smiled encouragingly at the little girl, who shyly extended her artificial arm in his direction.

Jemma knew that looks could be deceiving. That one smile didn’t automatically make him the kindhearted man she had fallen in love with, but, nonetheless, Jemma clung to the story and the photograph as if they were a lifeline.

By day three of being without Daisy and no step closer to Fitz or any of their other abducted friends—Mace aside, who indeed seemed less than keen on returning to the real physical world—Jemma felt a sense of cabin fever and panic creeping into her mind with every passing hour.

When Hand called Jemma into her office and told her that she was to accompany Hunter and Trip to L.A. to attend a press conference at RadFitz Technologies, Jemma had to restrain herself from hugging the stoic Director.

Hand made it very clear that the primary goal of their mission was to discern any possible connections between RadFitz Technologies and Hydra, but the fact that Hand had selected her to go on this mission—when a biochemist was certainly not needed to play fake journalist—told her that it was Hand’s way of bringing Jemma one step closer. How close remained to be seen.

* * *

* * *

Hunter leans his head closer to her. His voice is barely above a whisper. “Simmons, I don’t know how many undercover operations you’ve been on in the real world as you like to call it, but jiggling nervously with your leg and fidgeting with your hands is a bit counterproductive.”

Jemma immediately balls her hands into fist to stop them from shaking and forces her leg to hold still. She glances over at Hunter, smiling shyly. “Sorry.”

Hunter winks at her behind his dark-rimmed glasses. “No worries, love. I’m here to help.”

He adjusts his tie. “I hate undercover ops where I have to wear a suit. Someone remind me why I’m fake reputable news reporter with a neck-choker and Trip gets to be T-shirt wearing cameraman?”

“’Cause last time you were cameraman, you forgot to turn the damn thing on and ruined the whole op,” Trip’s voice sounds over their earpieces.

Jemma glances to the front of the room, where Trip is grinning widely, standing among a group of cameramen, fighting for the best view.

“Found a good spot, Trip-a-roo?” Hunter whispers.

“Got a lovely view of the stage and the listening device one of our genius techs put into my camera is close enough to backstage to pick up conversations. So far not much, though. Guy with a Scottish accent just announced ‘Are you ready? Showtime!’ Think that was Radcliffe.”

Jemma’s focus shifts to the podium in the middle of the large conference room when a man in a dark-gray suit enters.

“Showtime indeed,” Hunter announces and straightens up in his seat.

The room instantaneously falls silent as the man positions himself in front of the microphone and clears his throat.

“Geoffrey Ingram. Their PR spokesperson,” Hunter whispers into Jemma’s ear.

“I know. I’ve done my research.”

“Well, excuse me for trying to help, Miss Know-It-All.”

Jemma gently jabs Hunter with her elbow, who shoots her a mischievous grin before returning his attention to the person on stage.

“Dear Members of the Press. Thank you very much for coming today. I know you’ve all been anxiously awaiting this press conference. More than one of you have tried for days or even weeks to figure out if RadFitz Technologies has something new up their sleeves. And I can now finally confirm that—yes—we will be revealing a new product to you today.”

A murmur goes through the crowd, and Jemma glances over at Hunter who raises his eyebrows suggestively.

“Forget everything you thought you might know about advanced prosthetics, because what you will see today is nothing short of futuristic. And if you don’t want to take _my_ word for it… maybe you will believe the two genius minds behind it all. Ladies and gentlemen of the press, please welcome the CEOs of RadFitz Technologies themselves, Holden Radcliffe and Leopold Fitz.” Ingram gestures towards the side of the stage and the journalists applaud when Radcliffe and Fitz enter.

Jemma feels her heart quicken at the sight of Fitz. Her mind knows that she can’t just run up to him. That he’s not Fitz, not the man who’s known her since she was sixteen.

Not in this world.

Here, he’s Leopold Fitz, CEO of RadFitz Technologies. She knows he won’t magically know her, won’t recognize her.

Mace had not been able to recall _any_ of his real-life memories, and she’d been trying to trigger them for days.

And yet Jemma’s heart is screaming, trying to reach Fitz, wanting to grab him, shake him, kiss him, hold him.

_Come back to me!_

She’s closer to him now than she’d been in almost a week, and it takes every ounce of willpower to stop herself from breaking her cover.

Radcliffe waves enthusiastically at the crowd and energetically struts straight to the podium, while Fitz barely lifts a hand high enough to be recognized as a greeting. His face looks somewhere between serious, annoyed, and bored, as he positions himself to the side of Radcliffe, crossing his arms in front of his chest, his eyes wandering over the crowd.

Jemma tries to slow down her breathing and blinks away the tears threatening to break her carefully built façade. She knows she should return to being a journalist, focus on Radcliffe, who’s already started his presentation, wooing the press with charming compliments and promises of a revolutionary revelation. But Jemma can’t bring herself to look away from Fitz, as if looking away from him would make him disappear.

She calls his name in her mind, begs him to look at her, see her, notice her.

_Come back to me!_

For a split-second she thinks it works. For a split-second, she thinks his eyes meet hers.

“Remember the mission.” Hunter’s hushed voice and gentle elbow jab jerk Jemma back into reality.

She gasps briefly in surprise, and finally forces herself to look at Radcliffe, pretending to take notes on her laptop as Radcliffe introduces their newest product.

But her eyes keep gazing back in his direction, like moths drawn to a flame.

* * *

As soon as Holden begins his presentation, Leo tunes out his business partner’s overly enthusiastic voice. He’d heard it all before. Forward and backward. Word by word. Every lame joke and amusing anecdote.

Holden always insisted on going over the presentation multiple times and since Agnes generally excused herself with a migraine attack around presentation attempt No. 3, Leo always ended up being the sole member of the audience.

But it was a small price to pay. In exchange for playing test listener, Holden released Leo from almost all actual presentation duties at these goddamn press conferences.

Leo hated these bloody public events, being extradited to the press, their obnoxious questions that never seemed to focus on their product. And yet he was supposed to be polite, treat them with respect, butter them up with fake smiles and lame jokes.

It never seemed to get easier. If anything, with every goddamn press conference he felt more and more impatient.

Their new prosthetic arm was revolutionary. It’s movements life-like. Fine motor skills like never before achieved in robotics. The skin incredibly realistic both optically and to the touch.

And yet, Leo can’t shake the feeling that as soon as Holden finishes his presentation, as soon as they’d open the floor for questions, the interest in their revolutionary product would quickly be replaced with personal questions from members of the tabloid press.

Leo lets his eyes wander over the crowd, scanning person by person, analyzing their postures, their levels of interest, levels of understanding, levels of boredom. He determines who’s here for the tech, for the product, and who’s here to pry and gossip.

He stops when his eyes catch a young journalist in the seventh row. There’s something mesmerizing about her. It’s not her undeniable beauty. Well, not _just_ at the very least. It’s the way she seems to be in her own world. Her eyes not focused on Holden but instead continuously glancing in Leo’s direction. It’s the way her eyes shimmer sadly, longingly, until the man sitting next to her elbows her and her eyes return to Holden as she begins typing vigorously on her laptop.

Leo’s eyes remain fixed on the young journalist, trying to figure out if he’d imagined it, trying to see if she’ll look at him again.

There’s a nervousness, an uneasy feeling creeping up Leo’s spine that he can’t explain.

He exhales sharply, forcing his eyes away from the brown-haired woman. He glances at Holden, who in that moment is pulling his hand back from gesturing at the large screen.

Holden turns to face the audience, placing both hands on the podium. “Well, and now I’ll open the floor for questions, and since this man next to me is the genius behind the vast majority of what I’ve just introduced to you, I’ll kindly ask Leopold to join me at the microphone.”

Leo takes a deep breath. Reluctantly, he straightens up and steps closer to the mic, forcing a polite smile, as the members of the press welcome him with applause.

The first few questions are product-related, and as usual—and much to Leo’s delight—Holden takes it upon himself to answer most of them, only leaving it up to Leo to explain the finer technical details to some of the more specialized journalists in the room.

A middle-aged journalist, who looks mildly familiar, stands up when Ingram gives her the floor. “Candice Layton, CNET. Leopold, this product is truly remarkable, but, I’m wondering, are you already working on new ideas?”

Leo scoffs. “I’m an engineer, Candice. An inventor. The day I stop working on new ideas is probably the day you lay me down in a wooden box, shed some tears, while someone sings Amazing Grace in the background.”

“Can you tell us anything about what’s coming next, then?” Layton adds.

Holden leans in front of Leo to reach the microphone. “You know the rules, Candice. We never talk about what’s going on behind our doors until our product is ready to meet the world. But believe me, you will be even more amazed than you were today!”

Holden gestures at Ingram to give the floor to the next journalist. Ingram points at a balding man in a light blue button-up, who’s trying to hide the sweat stains under his armpits.

“Phil Sydney, LA Times. Leopold, you’ve been compared with Tony Stark on several occasions. What do you have to say about this comparison?”

Leo can’t suppress a chuckle. He shakes his head, biting his lower lip to hide his grin. Then he takes a deep breath, bringing his face closer to the microphone. “It’s bullshit.”

Leo ignores the murmur going through the crowd. “I’m younger, a better engineer and—even though this statement doesn’t sound like it—less of an arrogant egotistic ass than Stark. You can quote me on that.”

“How about we focus on questions related to the Manus Magica 1.0?” a somewhat nervous Holden interjects.

A slender blond in a tight short dress stands up when Ingram gestures at her. “Lizzie Glover, National Enquirer.”

Leo squints his eyes at the name of the journalist’s employer and inhales slowly in full anticipation of what’s to come.

“Leopold,” Glover continues, a teasing smile playing on her lips. “TMZ has reported that you and Mona Haward are no longer dating. What do you have to say about that?”

Leo clenches his jaw and his hands tightly grip the sides of the podium. “That it’s true and none of your business.”

“So why did the relationship end?” Glover follows-up.

Leo shakes his head. His eyes wander to the floor, and he bites his tongue trying to keep his composure. He hated it. The prying questions. The complete lack of interest in their product.

He lifts his head and glares at Glover, who’s still smirking smugly at him.

“Fuck off, Glover! You’d think you and the rest of the _fucking_ gossip press would learn from your mistakes. My private life is _none_ of your bloody business. So since we’ve apparently exhausted questions about a product that could change the lives of _millions_ of people, how ‘bout we just call it a day?”

Leo straightens up and pushes past Holden, who’s frantically trying to get to the mic, save the situation and bring the press conference to a decent end.

Every muscle in Leo’s body seems tense to the point of trembling. He rushes down the few steps of the raised platform and disappears backstage.

He stops when he feels safe and out of view and pulls his phone from his pocket. He exhales sharply before making his call.

A smile flashes across his face when he hears the familiar voice at the other end.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Leo asks, nervously.

“No no. I was just dozing off to some documentary on the telly,” his mum replies. “What’s wrong, Leo?”

“Nothing, mum. I’m… I’m fine.” He sighs. “We just had our press conference. Didn’t go over so well.”

“They didn’t like the product? It sounded so amazing!”

“No, mum, the product is great. They loved the product. But… Well, you know they always pry about my personal life and… well, Mona and I broke up, and they… they knew and—”

“You broke up? What happened? Are you okay?”

Leo can’t help but let out a quiet laugh at his mum’s worrying tone. “I’m fine, mum. I’m fine. It was mutual. Don’t worry. I just… I snapped at the press, ‘cause it’s none of their bloody business and now they’ll probably blow my little outburst out of proportions as usual, and I wanted you to hear from me instead of the tabloids.”

“Oh, Leopold, love, what can I—?”

Leo smiles. “Mum, you don’t have to do anything! I swear, I’m fine. Just wanted to hear you. How’s dad?”

“Oh, he’s doing great. We went for a walk today. We walked by the lake and he remembered how you and him once built a miniature steamboat and the bloody thing sank and you made him wade into the lake to fetch it back so you could repair it and figure out why it hadn’t worked.”

Leo laughs out loud. “He remembered that? That’s good.”

“Do you wanna talk to him? I can wake him.”

“No… no that’s fine, mum. Don’t wake him. I’ll… I’ll call Sunday. Usual time.”

“Sounds good, love. And don’t worry about the press. You know your own worth! Never hesitate to stand up for yourself and what you believe in!”

“Yeah. I know, mum.”

“Love you, Leopold.”

“Love you too, mum.”

Leo hangs up, staring for a moment at the black screen of his phone, a smile still playing on his lips.

He turns around when he hears Holden coming down the stage, looking somewhat flustered. Ingram is right behind him, noticeably more furious.

“We’ve been over this, Leo,” Ingram remarks somewhat disgruntled. “Your temper—”

“Geoff, leave the man be,” Holden interjects. “He was _absolutely_ right that they should refrain from asking such personal questions, _especially_ when we’re introducing a new product.”

Ingram stands with one hand on his hip, the other gesturing at Leo. “Yes, but by barking insults at the members of the press, he’s making sure that the product will _not_ be what’s on their front pages tomorrow.”

Leo rolls his eyes, shrugging his shoulders apologetically. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have—”

“No, it’s alright, son!” Holden interrupts him, placing one hand on Leo’s shoulder. “Let’s go to my office and talk some more.” He looks at Ingram and smiles. “Geoff, relax. You know this will blow over quickly. Just make sure to send out the product description and official press release to everyone, so they are reminded of what today was _really_ about!”

Ingram lets out a quiet groan, before turning around and heading towards his office, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

* * *

“Well, that was… interesting.” Hunter gets up from his seat, loosening his tie and taking off his fake glasses. He gathers the brochures they’d been given and his tablet.

Jemma nods quietly, grabbing her laptop tightly, still glancing to the part of the stage that Fitz had disappeared through only minutes earlier. She hadn’t really paid attention as Radcliffe and their PR person had tried to wrap up the press conference, her mind analyzing Fitz’ reaction to the journalist's personal question instead.

Douchebag or introvert?

She knew what she was leaning towards, but then she wasn’t sure if she could trust her admittedly biased opinion.

Hunter and Jemma scuttle out of their row to meet up with Trip, who’s already waiting for them, the camera resting on his shoulder.

Hunter nods his head at Trip. “Catch anything from backstage after that little theatrical interlude?”

“Not much. The PR dude was pissed, Fitz was apologetic, and Radcliffe was being the voice of reason. Suggested they talk more in his office. Oh, and he called his mom.”

Hunter squints his eyes. “Radcliffe?”

“No, man. Fitz!”

“What did he say?” It’s the first Jemma has spoken since the beginning of the conference.

“Told her what happened. Said he didn’t want her to find out from the tabloids that he and his girlfriend split.”

Jemma’s stomach tightens uncomfortably and she lets out a short shaky breath.

Trip puts his hand on Jemma’s shoulder. “Sorry, Jemma.”

“No, it’s fine,” she mumbles quietly, shaking her head and pulling back her shoulder, avoiding everyone’s eyes.

“Oh, and he said he’d call her on Sunday. Usual time.”

“So… nothing like ‘Enjoy the Hail Hydra fruit basket I sent you, mum?” Hunter tries to break the awkward silence.

Trip chuckles briefly and shrugs his shoulders. “Sorry, man.”

Jemma clears her throat. “Well, I suppose we should head back to DC then and report back to Hand?”

“You alright, love?”

“I”m fine Hunter. I prefer no proven Hydra ties to the alternative, but I feel like Hand’s not going to be pleased that we’re practically coming back empty handed.”

Trip shrugs his shoulders and starts heading down to the exit. Jemma is about to follow him, when Hunter’s hand on her shoulder stops her.

“I know you were hoping to get closer to him today, but… you gotta be patient, love. _Not_ storming the stage like a crazy groupie was _probably_ the smart choice!”

Jemma sighs, nodding in agreement.

“And, hey!” Hunter adds. “The guy called his mum after a botched press conference and apparently has a standing appointment to chat with his folks every Sunday. Honestly, that earned him some brownie points in _my_ book.”

A sad smile flashes across Jemma’s face. “He’s always been close with his mum.”

Hunter gently slaps her on the shoulder. “Come on. Let’s head back to DC. Tomorrow’s a new day! We’ll get to him. No worries!”

* * *

Energetically, Holden swings the double doors to his office open and marches inside, straight to the cocktail cart.

Leo follows, his hands tucked into his pockets, his head hanging low. “I’m sorry, Holden. I just… you know I hate it when—”

Holden turns around and stretches out his hand holding a drink for Leo. “Like I said, Leopold, let’s forget about this incident!”

Leo accepts the glass and takes a sip of the gold-brown liquid.

“I have to ask though,” Holden adds, “how did I not know that you broke up with Mona?”

Leo rolls his eyes, exhaling sharply. “I didn’t. _She_ did.” He takes another sip of his drink. “Not that it matters ‘cause it was the right thing to do either way.”

“How come?”

Leo shakes his head and shrugs his shoulders. “Because I annoyed her and she bored me to death. Because we never saw each other. Because her new co-star paid her more attention.” He throws one hand in the air. “What do you care? The woman didn’t have a single thought unless someone wrote it down for her. The question is why I dated her in the first place.”

“Well that’s a bit harsh don’t you think?”

Leo scoffs. “It’s the truth, Holden. I actually think she’d agree with me.”

Holden turns on his heels, gesturing at Leo with the hand holding his own drink. “What about that girl from MIT that we hired a while back?”

Leo can’t help but chuckle. He clicks his tongue. “Susan?” He presses his lips together and nods. “Oh yeah. She was wonderful. Smart. At least occasionally genuinely interested when I talked shop with her. But, _unfortunately_ , she dumped me when Ian Quinn made her a better offer… and I’m not just talking about a higher paycheck here.”

“Oh,” Holden exclaims, noticeably surprised. “Well, I’m sure there’s someone else out there just waiting for you! You just have to keep looking and one day when you least expect it you—”

Leo raises his shoulders. “I don’t give a fuck, Holden, and I don’t understand why you keep bringing it up.”

Leo gulps down the rest of his Scotch and continues, ignoring Holden’s wide eyes. “I’ve _never_ met anyone interesting enough or challenging enough to spend excessive amounts of time with. And I don’t need to.”

Leo puts the glass down on Holden’s desk and turns around to look at his business partner, his hands beginning to gesture widely. “I’m here to work, Holden. To invent. To help people. I’m perfectly content the way things are. I don’t need the constant distraction of attending movie premiers with some up-and-coming actress who’s primarily interested in me ‘cause I take a decent picture. I don’t need another bimbo who’s interested in me for my money. Or another wannabe scientist trying to use me to get an in in the industry.”

Holden points at him. “I used to think like that, Leo, but then—”

Leo rolls his eyes. “You met Agnes. I know. I was there. And I’m happy that you found each other, but I have better things to do than trying to search for a soul mate.”

He gestures at himself. “I’m an engineer, Holden. I believe in science not that the cosmos is out to introduce me to my one true love. My legacy will be the things I’ve built, my designs, my inventions. Our company! Which brings me to a _far_ more interesting topic than my love life: Wanna explain to me why in the last two weeks I haven’t been able to leave my office, eat dinner, or take a shit without some of those goddamn stalker journalists asking me about rumors of a merger between RadFitz Technologies and Quinn Worldwide?”

Leo pauses, glaring expectantly at Holden, whose eyes seem to have doubled in size.

 _Deer-in-headlight if I’ve ever seen one_ , Leo thinks as anger slowly replaces denial.

Holden shrugs half-heartedly. “Well, we’ve tried _very_ hard to keep it under wraps, but someone somewhere must have spilled the beans. My money’s on Quinn. The man can’t keep a secret to save his life.”

Leo draws in a breath through gritted teeth. “So it’s true?”

Holden raises his hands defensively. “I was going to talk to you.”

Leo feels every muscle in his body tighten, as his mind struggles to find the right words to reply. “Talk to… you were going to… _When?_ When exactly? At the _signing_?” He throws both hands in the air. “What the hell, Holden? We’re business partners!”

Holden gestures at him. “You never want to be involved in the business side of things. Nor the publicity side of things, for that matter. I have to drag you to any public event or press conference every single time.”

Leo inhales a shaky breath in disbelief. He takes a step closer to Holden. “Yes, I don’t like being involved in the business side of things, but we’re talking about a bloody _merger_ not choosing the new design for the stationary! And _yes_ , I hate these events. The fake smiles. The way I can practically _feel_ their heads up my ass because they want to pitch some kind of idiotic idea, trying to get a piece of the cake.” Angrily, Leo turns around, gesturing with one hand out the floor-to-ceiling windows. “And now you’re handing Ian Quinn the whole damn buffet table? God, I’d rather merge with _Stark_. Quinn’s… he’s… there’s something about him.” Fitz shakes his head. “He’s ruthless. He’d… he’d _kill_ to make a profit and I’m not convinced that I’m only saying this figuratively speaking!”

Raising his hands in a calming gesture, Holden walks up to him. “Nobody’s handing Quinn the whole buffet table, Leopold. We’re keeping full control over RadFitz Technologies. We will have final say in everything related to our products or our company.”

There’s an annoying bounce in his step, as Holden continues. “But think of what this merger could do for us, Leo? Instead of competing for the market with Quinn, we could rule it together!” He balls one hand into a triumphant fist. “We could rule the world!”

Leo scoffs, shaking his head in disgust. “I want to build things, Holden. Invent. Help. Achieve greatness… Not bloody rule the world. We’ve got enough people on this goddamn planet to fight over that role.”

“Well, then see it this way, Leo: the merger will allow you to focus _more_ on your work. Let Quinn and me be the faces of our companies, while you focus on product invention and design?”

“Ugh!” Leo groans, letting his head fall backwards. “That arrogant assface.” Leo flings his head back, pointing at Holden. “The guy has ties to Hydra up the wazoo. Maybe nobody can prove it, but _everyone_ knows!”

Holden shrugs. “Well, who _doesn’t_ have ties to Hydra these days?”

Leo stares at his business partner, wide-eyed. He gestures at himself. “ _I_ don’t!” He waves his hand between himself and Holden. “ _We_ don’t! God, tell me we don’t ‘cause I—”

“No. Of course not, Leopold,” Holden interjects. “Not deliberately, but you have to admit that it’s difficult to avoid—let’s call it—‘secondary’ ties to the world’s most powerful organization.”

Leo shakes his head and slumps his shoulders in resignation. “It’s a done deal anyways, isn’t it?"

Holden’s gaze falls to the floor. “We’ll make the official announcement at Quinn Worldwide’s shareholder meeting in Malta in two weeks.”

Leo scoffs, scratching the back of his neck. “Remember when we founded this company, Holden? I can still hear you. ‘Our business advisors suggest that since I’m older and more experienced, I should have a slightly higher share of the company. But that’s only on paper, Leopold. We’ll work 50/50. Of course we will.’” Leo shakes his head. “Forty-nine percent share. Should’ve known that’ll bite me in the ass at some point.”

Holden walks up to him, gently squeezing his shoulder. “Leopold. It’ll be good for us.”

Leo can’t bring himself to look his business partner and friend in the eye. “If you say so,” he mutters through his teeth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I struggled a bit with this chapter. Still getting used to writing Framework!Fitz. I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless.
> 
> The chapter already gave you a bit of a hint as to what's coming next. 
> 
> P.S. Tax season sucks. Sucks sucks sucks.  
> P.P.S. That's just me ranting, not a hint about the fic ;)


	6. I know my call despite my faults and despite my growing fears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to split this chapter in two... that means, current estimated chapter count has risen to 13. I hope I don't run out of song lyrics to use as chapter titles ;)

It had been two weeks since Jemma had seen Leopold Fitz, CEO of RadFitz Technologies, attack a tabloid journalist for asking personal questions during a press conference. She had been unable to get close to him ever since.

Daisy had been somewhat luckier. She had been able to talk to both May and Coulson, who believed her thanks to an encrypted message from Director Hand, documenting Daisy’s and Jemma’s lie detector testimonies. Neither May nor Coulson could recall any of their real life memories, although they both admitted feeling a certain sense of familiarity with Daisy. They had agreed to be on standby, ready to drop everything at a moment’s notice when it was time to leave the Framework. Until then, they would continue their current lives as usual.

Mack had been a whole different story. He was living a happy, quiet life in the suburbs of San Diego; a mechanic specializing in motorcycles, the single dad of an almost eleven-year-old girl. He had called Daisy crazy when she showed up at his doorstep, had threatened to call the cops on her, and closed the door right in front of her face.

Daisy and Jemma had decided that Mack would have to wait until later, until they could figure out a way to trigger everyone’s memories.

Fitz was the only one they hadn’t been able to talk to yet, and the fear that she’d never be able to was gnawing on Jemma, draining her of energy like a vampire slowly depleting its victim of its life’s source.

It had been almost three weeks in the Framework, and what Jemma had dreaded most seemed to be happening: She was getting used to it, she was falling into a routine.

The Framework was starting to become normalcy.

* * *

* * *

They’re gathered around the large conference table in Hand’s office. The Director is sitting at the end, her hands folded, a tablet lying in front of her.

“Alright, let’s get this meeting started, shall we?” she remarks sternly, and Hunter and Trip who’d been arguing over who truly won their interrupted gaming session immediately fall silent.

Hand taps her tablet and a picture of Doctor Franklin Hall appears on the large screen on her office wall.

Jemma’s eyes widen and her mouth falls slightly open.

Hand gestures at the screen. “This is Doctor Franklin Hall. A Canadian physicist and one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s assets, that is people our enemies would _love_ to get their hands on. It was a bit of a miracle that we managed to continue our protection of Doctor Hall when our agency fell and prevent Hydra from getting their hands on him. That is until—”

“We need to get in touch with Agent Johnson!”

All eyes in the room shoot in Jemma’s direction.

Hand leans back in her chair and crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Excuse me, Agent Simmons?”

Jemma takes a deep breath and straightens up in her seat. “The gravitational shift that caused the big rig that transported Doctor Hall to crash was caused by a miniature gravity generator powered by gravitonium, an extremely rare and extremely dangerous element. Doctor Hall is quite possibly the sole expert when it comes to gravitonium. He is being held at Ian Quinn’s compound in Malta in an underground facility. Quinn went to Cambridge with Hall and he wants Hall’s help in building a full-sized generator. But what Quinn _doesn’t_ realize is that it was actually Hall _himself_ who leaked information about his whereabouts, _hoping_ to be abducted and brought to Quinn so he could destroy the generator as well as Quinn in the process. Quinn is planning on making an announcement about the possibilities of gravitonium at his shareholders meeting and—”

“I’m sorry,” Hunter pipes up, slowly raising one hand in the air. “Am I the only one who feels like he’s missed something?”

“No, man. I’m with ‘ya. It’s like watching Sherlock,” Trip adds.

Hand leans forward, resting her elbows on the table and interlacing her fingers. “Agent Simmons, care to explain your psychic abilities?”

Jemma looks at Hand, smiling shyly. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I got ahead of myself.” She shifts in her seat, glancing briefly at everyone at the table. “I know the details of this mission, because I’ve already been a part of it. In the real physical world, Quinn abducted Doctor Hall almost four years ago, before Hydra came out of the shadows actually. It was Agent Coulson’s special field unit, myself included, who prevented a greater tragedy by stopping Doctor Hall from using the gravitonium to destroy Quinn’s compound and quite possibly half the island of Malta.”

Hunter tilts his head to the side. “Well, _that_ explains a lot.”

“Well, in that case, why don’t you tell us how to proceed, Agent Simmons?”

Jemma takes a deep breath. “Like I said, we need to get in touch with Agent Johnson. Security at Quinn’s compound is so strong that we need a man on the inside at the shareholders meeting to get us access to a wireless network so we can disable the security fence by forcing a reboot which gives the extraction team three seconds to enter the premises.”

Jemma pauses, tilting her head side to side. “Although, well, Hall doesn’t really want to _be_ extracted… but still, at the very least we need to get someone into the compound to stop Hall from killing innocent people. Last time, Daisy was able to obtain an invitation thanks to her hacker skills and connections to the Rising Tide. Although, we may have to send someone else in this time, since we may need Daisy to disable the security fence. That was Fitz’s job last time and well, he’s not here, so—”

“Believe it or not, Agent Simmons,” Hand interrupts her, the hint of a smile playing on her lips, “our little virtual version of S.H.I.E.L.D. has some _very_ talented tech people as well. I’m sure Agent Koenig would be more than happy to deactivate the security fence.”

“Umm.” Jemma widens her eyes in embarrassment. “Of course, right, yes, I didn’t mean to suggest… it’s just… I was just—”

She stops when she feels Hunter’s hand on her shoulder. “Relax, Simmons. All good!”

The corner of Hand’s mouth twitches barely noticeably. “Well, alright. Agent Simmons, use the secure channel you’ve established with Agent Johnson to bring her in. We will hash out the details once she has arrived.”

* * *

“So, what did you tell Ward this time?” Jemma asks curiously, as Daisy and her walk towards Hand’s office.

“That I’m headed to Quinn Worldwide’s shareholders meeting in Malta.”

“What?” Jemma stops dead in her tracks and grabs Daisy by the wrist, forcing her to stop and turn around.

Daisy shrugs. “Well, turns out I don’t have to hack myself an invite this times, since Skye, aka Rising Tide hacker extraordinaire, already has pretty well established connections to Quinn. I had the invite lying around at home. Didn’t think I’d actually needed to go until you told me that we’re about to have a gravitonium déjà vu.”

“Unbelievable.” Jemma shakes her head and continues walking.

They enter Hand’s office, where the Director, Hunter, Trip, Mace, and Koenig are already waiting.

Hand takes a few steps closer to Daisy, extending her hand, her fiery red lips pulled into an unusually kind smile. “Agent Johnson. It’s good to see you.”

Daisy shakes the Director’s hand. “Likewise, Director Hand.”

Hand gestures into the room, inviting Daisy and Jemma to step closer to the others. “I assume Agent Simmons has already brought you up to speed on the current situation.”

Daisy nods. “Yes. And as I already explained to _her_ , I don’t need to hack myself an invite, because I’ve already been invited. Getting into Quinn’s office and planting the device to give you guys wireless access to disable the security fence should be a _lot_ easier than it was last time.”

“Excellent,” Hand remarks calmly.

Mace nods, seemingly pleased with Daisy’s announcement. Koenig balls his hand into a triumphant fist, while Trip and Hunter high-five each other.

“Well, hold your horses for a second there.” Daisy raises her hands. “No offense to you and your technical skills, Agent Koenig, but last time, disabling the fence and getting our extraction team in safely was a bit of a walk on thin wire. Fitz knew _exactly_ what he was doing, and yet, we barely got lucky. Again, no offense, Koenig.”

Koenig grins at her from ear to ear. “None taken. Can’t wait to prove you wrong though… Quake.”

Daisy’s head shoots around to stare at Jemma. “Quake? Simmons, you _told_ him?”

Jemma shrugs, her eyes wide and apologetic. “He was curious. He asked a lot of questions. I… I’m sorry.”

“Ugh. Fine.” Daisy slumps her shoulders. She takes a deep breath to refocus. “What I’m _trying_ to say, Director Hand: I’m not suggesting to rewrite the entire operation, but since I already _have_ an in with Quinn, I thought I’d use my connection to organize us another invite.”

“If you can wrangle another invite, why not get us a few more so we can _all_ walk in through the front door rather than playing try-not-to-get-fried-by-the-fancy-laser-grid?” Hunter asks.

“’Cause Quinn’s a lot of things but—unfortunately—he’s _not_ an idiot,” Daisy counters. “If I try to show up with four extra guests, he might get suspicious. Plus, I assume you’d like to take some weapons with you and he sure as hell’s not gonna let you walk in with those!”

“So, what are you suggesting instead, Agent Johnson?” Hand’s tone is calm and factual as usual.

Daisy looks at the Director. “He might get suspicious if I show up with four extra guests, especially if three of them a hunky hunks, but—”

“I’m a hunky hunk?”

“Will you shut up so she can finish, Hunter?”

Daisy can barely suppress a chuckle when she looks over at Jemma, who’s glaring furiously at Hunter.

Hunter’s gaze falls to the floor. He tucks his hands in his pockets, and gently jabs the floor with the tip of his shoe. “Uncalled for,” he mutters under his breath.

“As I was _trying_ to say,” Daisy picks up once the situation seems to have resolved itself. “I can’t bring along _too_ many extra guests, but Quinn might cough up an extra invite for a brilliant and drop-dead gorgeous scientist who specializes in ‘enter fancy field of your choosing for your fake background story.’” She gestures at Jemma.

Hand crosses her arms in front of her chest. “You’re suggesting that Agent Simmons join you as a guest at the shareholders meeting?”

Daisy nods. “Yes. As backup, in case anything about the rest of the plan falls flat, aka gaining access to the wireless network, disabling the fence, getting through the fence in the three seconds it takes to reboot the system without getting fried, getting to Hall, stopping the dude from sinking the whole compound into the ocean… you know… a backup.”

“And the reasons for suggesting Agents Simmons specifically?”

Daisy draws in a slow breath.

_God, this woman is good!_

“Jemma and I have been working together for years. We’re an oiled machine. Like myself, Jemma has first-hand experience with this mission. Yes, she may only have followed along via comms last time, but she certainly knows the story better than _any_ of you. _She_ told you about it. She knows what’s gonna happen and what to do with the gravitonium. Hell, she probably is the only person in this room who understands what that fucked-up element even _does_ exactly. Plus, she’s pretty badass undercover.”

Hand raises her chin. “Why do I get the feeling there is more to your story, Agent Johnson?”

Daisy looks slightly sheepishly back at the Director. “’Cause there _is_ and I was getting to that… was _going_ to get to that eventually.”

Hand exhales sharply. “Agent Johnson, you work for S.H.I.E.L.D.. I’d like to save my interrogation techniques for the enemy. I don’t appreciate having to worm every piece of information out of you bit by bit.”

Daisy bites her lower lip and glances in Jemma’s direction. “Holden Radcliffe and Leopold Fitz are on the guest list.”

“Fitz?” Daisy can hear the mix of hope and anxiety in the single word that escapes Jemma’s lips.

“Now, they’re not shareholders of Quinn Worldwide,” Daisy continues, forcing herself to look away from Jemma, who seems to be fighting back tears, and back at Hand, “so I’m not _entirely_ sure why they’ve been invited. That being said, there are rumors floating around—”

“Of a merger between RadFitz Technologies and Quinn Worldwide.” Jemma’s voice sounds slightly shaky, but when Daisy looks over, she can see the scientist standing tall and composed.

A smile flashes across Daisy’s face, filled with pride for her friend’s strength and determination. “Yes, but no matter _why_ they’ll be there… it might give us an opportunity to get close enough to Fitz to actually _talk_ to him.”

Hand inhales slowly. “Doctor Hall and the gravitonium situation need to be our primary focus. In fact, since Mr. Fitz will be at the premises, his ultimate rescue from the Framework may hinge on our success to bring the situation in Malta under control safely. You have permission to engage with the subject as long as the end goal of our mission is in no way compromised. Is that clear?”

Daisy gives Hand two thumbs up. “Clear as day.”

Hand’s gaze wanders to Jemma. “Agent Simmons?”

Jemma nods firmly. “Yes, Director Hand. I agree wholeheartedly.”

“Well then.” Hand straightens up, tucking on her suit jacket. Her stern eyes wander from person to person. “Agent Johnson, I suggest you start buttering up Ian Quinn for another invitation. Agent Koenig, you are to come up with a suitable undercover background story for Agent Simmons and ensure that it’s bullet proof; fabricate the necessary fake evidence online. Agents Triplett and Hunter, Patriot, prepare your part of the operation. Do not hesitate to ask Agents Johnson and Simmons for further intel as you see fit. I’ll ensure to get our plane ready and staffed. Let’s get this going. Time is of the essence.”

* * *

* * *

Announcing the merger between Quinn Worldwide and RadFitz Technologies had been Quinn’s first order of business at the shareholders meeting, thus confirming Daisy and Jemma’s initial suspicion.

Radcliffe and Quinn had smiled widely, enthusiastically shaking each other’s hands, patting each other’s backs, and gesturing happily at the applauding crowd and flashing cameras.

Fitz’s expression on the other hand resembled more someone attending the funeral of a dear friend. His eyes were stern, glaring at his two business partners with a look close to disgust. He seemed to be clenching his jaw as he shook Quinn’s hand to seal the deal, and his knuckles gripping the pen to sign the official merger documents were turning white.

As soon as Quinn had announced a short break before further revolutionary announcements were to be made, Fitz had left the small stage.

Jemma’s heart sank as she watched him disappear, striding away from the crowd in fast, angry steps. Her heart screamed at her to follow him, but her mind reminded her of the mission. The mission had priority.

* * *

Jemma wanders through the impressive garden where small groups of people are scattered, immersed in lively discussions and polite small talk. She feels remarkably uncomfortable and slightly too warm in the black jumpsuit that leaves most of her back hidden behind nothing but an intricate lace pattern. But she certainly preferred this outfit to the short tight dress that Daisy had tried to convince her to wear.

 _Far too impractical for the mission and most certainly not my style_ , Jemma had insisted.

Jemma takes a sip from her champagne, her eyes nervously scanning the area.

“I haven’t seen him anywhere?” she whispers into her comms. “Do you think he left?”

“I don’t know. Radcliffe’s still around though, and I haven’t seen or heard any helicopters or yachts leaving,” Daisy replies, winking briefly when Jemma catches sight of her at the other side of the pool. “I’ll have to start focusing on getting access to the wireless network soon. You’ll be okay?”

“Yes, of course. Just perfect.” Jemma knows that she’s not fooling Daisy, but she’s forcing herself to keep up appearances anyways.

_The mission. Focus on the mission. The mission has priority._

Jemma notices Quinn walking back to the podium. A high-pitched tone echoes over the loudspeakers as the microphone is turned back on. Little by little people wander over to the stage in anticipation of more announcements.

Jemma decides to stay towards the back.

She hears Daisy’s voice over her earpiece. “Gonna head into the building now. Time to freshen up my make-up, if you know what I mean.”

Jemma sees Daisy on the opposite side, waving her special little compact and grinning mischievously.

“Good luck,” Jemma whispers as quietly as possible.

At the front of the stage, Quinn waves at his guests, asking for silence. He leans on the podium, bringing his face closer to the microphone. “Many of you shareholders have been with us for years. And I see a few new names, not least my two new business associates, Holden Radcliffe and Leopold Fitz! But I wanna thank you all for travelling so far to this beautiful country. This country, where we are allowed to pursue progress and profit without the stranglehold of regulations that are now choking our world. The United States Government, the E.U., the D.R.T.C..These are just a few of the institutions that are guilty of halting the development of new technology for anyone except themselves.”

Jemma stares at the various logos appearing on the screen for the different organizations. She had recognized the speech immediately. Almost the exact same words Quinn had used four years earlier in the real world. Except that S.H.I.E.L.D. had been eliminated from the list of examples.

Jemma draws in a slow breath, trying to scan the area round her, listening for news from Daisy or the extraction team, but her comms remain silent, while Quinn continues his speech.

“We dare defy them with a new idea, they steal in and sweep it out from under us. But not today!” Quinn raises his finger triumphantly. “You are all aware of what Quinn Worldwide has been able to do with basic minerals, let alone uranium or plutonium, despite these unjust restrictions that weigh the scales in the other guys’ favor. Well, today, I’m announcing something new. An element that could balance those scales. And I mean that quite literally.”

Jemma can’t help but gasp when “Gravitonium (Gr) Atomic Number 123, Atomic Mass 308” appears on the screen. She swallows. “Any updates?” she whispers into her hidden mic.

“Still working on it,” Daisy replies quietly.

“Waiting impatiently by the deathly laser grid,” Hunter chimes in.

“Ready to disable that nasty boy as soon as I get access to the wireless,” Koenig’s voice pipes up.

“Fantastic,” Jemma mutters sarcastically, forcing her eyes back on Quinn.

“Imagine if you could control gravity. If instead of drilling for oil, it rose up to greet you. Imagine if you could move a supertanker’s worth of cargo with a swipe of your hand. Well, we will do this and more.”

Jemma feels her heart rate increase. Even though she’s outside, the walls, the world seem to be closing in on her. A nervous shiver runs through her body and she hears a slight ringing in her ears.

It was too much. She had to do something. She couldn’t just stand there, waiting for things to go south. Everything was taking too long. She had to get to Hall. Get a head start.

Jemma turns around, her eyes frantically scanning the area. She quickly walks towards the bar, hoping to catch a sharp left turn towards the main building once she’s out of sight. Jemma lowers her head, trying to hide her face.

Barely lifting her eyes, she catches a glimpse of the bar. Knowing that most everyone’s focused on Quinn’s presentation, she dares to straighten up, ready to head for the main building, when her body slams with full force into the sole customer at the bar, who had turned around just as Jemma was trying to walk by him.

Jemma gasps, feeling the ice-cold liquid from his glass penetrating the fabric of her jumpsuit. In a mild state of shock, she stares at her chest, frozen to the spot.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” the man exclaims, briefly turning around to put his half-empty glass back on the counter, before returning his attention to her.

His hands are stretched out slightly, hesitating to touch her, unsure what to do, and his head is slightly bent down trying to see her face. “Really, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”

When her ears finally recognize his voice, when she sees his piercing blue eyes, Jemma feels the world stop around her. She’s exhaling short panicked breaths, but her lungs don’t seem to take in any air in return. His features become blurry as her eyes disappear behind a curtain of tears.

Slowly she lifts her head as he straightens up. She can’t break eye contact, fearing he’ll disappear in thin air if she does. She feels her chin quiver, her hands tremble.

His head is tilted slightly forward, his eyes stare at her, full of concern, full of questions. “Are you okay?” he repeats, quietly, calmly.

Her heart is beating frantically in her chest. Her mind is screaming his name, and yet her lips remain silent. Panic overcomes her.

_Say something, Jemma. Say something!_

But there’s nothing. No answer. No words. Nothing but feelings. Love. Fear. Sadness. Hope. Overwhelming. Silencing. Daunting.

He’s still looking at her. Concern. Confusion. His hands still extended as if he were ready to catch her, to hold her, to lift her up.

Oh how she longed for him to hold her.

_Say something, Jemma!_

Intuitively, Jemma grabs his forearm for support when the ground below her begins to tremble and a deep rumble echoes through the landscape and the surprised crowd.

“Woah, earthquake,” Fitz exclaims, his hand still holding on to Jemma’s forearm, his eyes nervously glancing around the area, as the shaking slowly subsides.

Jemma stares at her hand, clutching his arm.

Suddenly she sees herself in the middle of a sandstorm, the landscaped bathed in a never-ending blue. She hears her name. Sees herself tumbling towards him. Sees him being dragged back towards the portal. She sees his hand reaching out for her, feels their desperate fingers grabbing for each other. She remembers clutching his hand, his arm, anything she could get a hold of as he pulled her home, to safety.

Jemma stares at her hand, wishing she could pull him to safety, pull him home, out of this virtual mess.

The ground shakes again and suddenly Jemma’s mind becomes clear, as Hand’s words echo in her mind.

_His ultimate rescue from the Framework may hinge on our success to bring the situation in Malta under control safely._

She stares at her hand on Fitz’s arm one more time.

Then she grabs tightly, and pulls him closer.

She lets go off his arm and cups his face instead.

“You need to leave, Fitz. You need to get away from here. Now!”

“Wha—?” He stares at her wide-eyed.

She tightens her grip on his face, feeling his stubble prickly against her palms. “You’re in danger, Fitz. You need to get away. Go to your helicopter, or your yacht, or however you came here and get as far away from this compound as you can.”

Jemma feels tears streaming down her face. “Please, Fitz, please. Leave. Just leave, please!” She stares into his eyes, pleading with him, begging him to listen to her, but all that looks back at her is confusion and fear.

Another tremor shakes the area.

Jemma forces her hands to let go of him, but her eyes linger for a moment longer, before she turns around, running towards the building past concerned and panicked guests.

Quinn’s nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Jemma had tried arguing with Hall, had tried to convince him to turn the machine off, had tried not to let history repeat itself. But Hall hadn’t listened to her any more than he had listened to Coulson.

Gravity had been shifting uncontrollably around her, objects flying by her head, hitting her body, her body hitting the wall, tumbling left and right. Yet somehow Jemma had managed to gain control of Hall’s gun.

She’s standing on the large window screen in front of the chamber that holds the spinning gravity generator. What had been a wall had become the floor as the gravitonium continued to alter the gravitational forces around them.

“It’s not too late to do the right thing, Doctor Hall,” Jemma pleads with Hall one last time.

“I _am_ doing the right thing,” Hall counters. “We have to live with the choices we make. But sometimes we have to die with them, too.”

“I understand.” Jemma tries to drown out the sound of her own heartbeat, as she glances at Hall’s gun in her trembling hand.

She looks around, trying to find something she can hold on to.

“It was an honor being your student.” A sense of satisfaction floods Jemma’s body, having been given the chance to say a few final words to her mentor this time around.

She points the gun at the window and fires several bullets into the thick glass until it cracks and breaks below her feet.

Hall falls down, a look of shock and surprise in his eyes, while Jemma frantically tries to reach the cable hanging above her.

All air seems to rush out of her lungs when her hands grab nothing instead.

Jemma looks to the ground, sees Hall in mid-air, feels her body being dragged in the same direction.

Everything seems to slow down. Becomes blurry. Like a strange and surreal dream.

Jemma hears a noise. Like a loud bang. Metal hitting concrete.

But her eyes are fixed on the spinning gravitonium generator below her feet.

She stares into the swirling silvery abyss, getting closer and closer, about to engulf her and her former professor, whose hands are reaching up in panic.

A sudden jerk pulls her back. She watches as Hall disappears in the gravitonium, but her own downwards movement seems to have stopped.

Her head is spinning, her body still being pulled in various directions by the aftereffects of the gravitational shifts.

Then the reactor stops and Jemma notices that her feet are standing on the ground, the actual _floor_ of the room.

It’s only when the arms let go of her that she notices that someone had grabbed her and pulled her to safety.

Jemma turns around.

Her eyes widen when she sees him standing in front of her, his chest heaving, trying to catch his breath.

She glances up and down, noticing the fire hose tied around his waist, the other end trailing behind him out into the hallway, presumably ending in the wall cabinet she had passed on her way into the lab.

“Who are you?” Fitz asks out of breath.

“I…I—” Jemma swallows and wets her dry lips. It was now or never.

“Simmons, are you okay?”

Jemma’s head shoots around and she sees Hunter leaning against the doorframe, gasping for air.

“Simmons?” Jemma hears Fitz mumble quietly to himself, as she stares at the impossibly ill-timed interruption in the form of Hunter.

Hunter gestures at Fitz with his thumb. “What’s _he_ doing here?”

Jemma’s eyes wander aimlessly back and forth between Hunter and Fitz, who wrinkles his forehead.

“What am I—?” Fitz shrugs, noticeably agitated. “What am—? I saved her bloody life!” Fitz gestures with both hands at Jemma, before moving one hand in Hunter’s direction. “Who the hell are _you_?”

Hunter squints his eyes and turns his head slightly, focusing solely on Jemma. “Really?” Once again, he gestures at Fitz with his thumb. “That guy? With the… charming personality? That’s him?”

Jemma rolls her eyes slightly at Hunter’s comment. “Yes,” she confirms, glancing over at Fitz who appears to have gone from furious to speechless.

“He knows?” Hunter asks.

Jemma sighs. “No… Yes… I’m not sure.”

Hunter takes a step into the lab. “Hand and the rest of the team will be here soon to clean up this—” He points at the gravitonium, swirling his index finger and grimacing in confusion. “That… that swirly gray ball there.”

A jolt seems to run through Fitz’s body, who throws one hand to the side, gesturing at the gravity generator. “Gravitonium. It’s… it’s _gravitonium_ and you can’t just clean it up like a dropped banana peel. That stuff’s _highly_ dangerous and _unstable…_ as the whole destructive earthquakes two minutes ago should have told you.” Fitz turns around on his heels, taking a few angry steps towards the destroyed window, pointing at the generator. “And why the bloody hell does my brand new business associate have a _gigantic_ ball of gravitonium lying around in his basement?” He throws one hand in the air. “I swear, I’m gonna kill Holden if he had anything to do with that. Fucking Quinn!”

“Hey,” Hunter exclaims, noticeably peeved. “We’re S.H.I.E.L.D. We know how to clean up the shitty messes you business folks constantly leave for us!”

Fitz turns around on the spot, staring at Jemma and Hunter, his index finger darting between the two of them. “You’re S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

Jemma sighs. “Yes.”

“Simmons!” Hunter’s head shoots around to face her.

Jemma glares in Hunter’s direction, pointing at him. “ _You_ just told him!”

“Oh. Right.” Hunter’s head drops to the floor.

“Thank god.”

Jemma turns her head in surprise, looking back at Fitz. “Thank g—?” She pauses as a smile flashes across her face. “You’re not Hydra.”

“ _What?_ ” Fitz’s eyes are wide, his shoulders pulled up almost to his ears, holding his hands in front of him. “ _No!_ ” he adds loudly. “Wh-what the—?

“Alright, Simmons,” Hunter interrupts them. “Why don’t you take your Sleeping Beauty and find a more quiet place in this little mansion to talk before the cleaning crew shows up?”

Hunter takes a step closer to Jemma, placing his hand on her shoulder and leaning close to her ear. “If talking doesn’t work, you could always try kissing him. Worked for Sleeping Beauty.”

Jemma jabs her elbow into Hunter’s ribcage, who grimaces unable to hide a mischievous grin.

She looks back at Fitz, whose expression is a mix of confusion and annoyance. Jemma exhales a shaky breath and wets her lips. “If you come with me… I’ll tell you everything.”

His blue piercing eyes stare at her, as if he’s trying to read her soul, discern her trustworthiness. His lips stand slightly apart. Then he bites his lower lip and nods. “Okay.”

It’s nothing more than a quiet whisper, but it feels like a hot spark, igniting a fire of hope in Jemma’s chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There'll be a lot more Fitzsimmons interaction from here on out :) Doesn't mean the angst is gone yet though ;)


	7. Now let me at the truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prepare for feels.
> 
> Possible trigger warning: mention of verbal abuse

He enters the impressive living room on the ground floor of Quinn’s mansion. A floor-to-ceiling sliding glass door leads to outside. A large military jet is parked towards the end of the property where only a little while ago hundreds of shareholders and members of the press had been scattered, who by now likely had all fled the premises.

“Holy shit,” Leo mutters in disbelief, walking slowly closer to the glass door, watching people descend from the ramp of the jet.

He turns around when he hears the door fall into its lock.

She’s standing right by the entrance, her hand still holding on to the handle as if trying to decide if she should stay or run.

Her body seems tense, a sense of nervousness radiating from every cell.

Her eyes gaze at him with sadness, anxiousness, and yet the hint of a smile plays on her lips.

Leo feels like he must look at her in much the same way, with the addition of a shitload of confusion.

He exhales sharply, tucking his hands in his pockets and raising his shoulders to his ears. “So! Who are you? And why did that guy just refer to me as your Sleeping Beauty?”

She sighs and lets go of the door handle. A shiver seems to run through her as she takes a step into the room.

“My name is Jemma Simmons.” Her voice sounds slightly hoarse, as if her throat were too dry to speak.

“Jemma?” He squints his eyes. It was a beautiful name. He’d never heard it before and yet it seemed to flow of his tongue so easily, so familiar as if he’d said it a million times.

She blinks rapidly and Leo notices tears in her eyes that she desperately seems to want to hold back. “You’ve known me since we were sixteen, Fitz.”

Fitz. There it was again. His last name.

_You need to leave, Fitz._

The way she had talked to him by the bar. The way she had held his face in her palms. The way she had pleaded with him. It seemed so personal, so close. And yet, she kept using his last name.

He watches her take another step closer and notices his heart beating faster.

_Wait. What had she said? Sixteen?_

“We met a S.H.I.E.L.D. Academy. We were science partners, Fitz. Best friends. We—”

He raises one finger in the air. “Okay. Let me stop you right there. First of all, it’s Leo, okay? And second of all, you better not try to tell me that you’re a time traveller and that my timeline got screwed up, ‘cause that’s bullshit. It’s not possible. Time’s an illusion. It’s how we perceive the fourth dimension. Everything that has happened, is happening, will happen is fixed. So—”

Leo’s eyes widen when he notices her quivering chin, her trembling hands, the tears streaming down her face.

She walks closer, raising her hands as if she wanted to reach him, grab him, shake him. “I’m _not_ a time traveller, Fitz… I’m your best friend, your partner, your—”

Her voice breaks as she inhales, her body shaking with held-back sobs. She stops in her tracks, her chest heaving in agitation. She gestures at herself, jabbing her fingers into her own chest.

“ _I’m_ the woman of whom you once said that you couldn’t live in a world that didn’t have her in it. _I’m_ the woman who’s come to realize that she doesn’t want to live in a world that doesn’t have you in it either.”

Leo stares at the brown-haired woman in front of him, watches her unravel, sees the panic, the desperation in her eyes. But there’s something else: determination, strength.

“ _I’m_ the woman for whom you dove through a hole in the universe, Fitz. _I’m_ the woman who logged into a virtual world to find you and tell you that _nothing_ you’re experiencing and _nothing_ you think you’ve experienced in the past is real. I’m _not_ a time traveller, Fitz, but yes, your timeline has been screwed up, because someone took you from me and put you into this virtual hellhole. I’m—”

Leo tries to process what she’d said, but his mind can’t seem to find a way around the way he looks at her, the way her eyes gaze at him, sad and pleading. Her cheeks shimmer from an endless trail of tears. Her chest rises and falls; fast at first, then slowing down, like a wild animal realizing that it can’t catch up to its prey, or like prey realizing it can’t outrun the enemy hunting it. She slumps her shoulders in resignation, tears still streaming down her cheeks, tears she’s made no effort wiping away as if it didn’t matter ‘cause there were only more to come.

“I’m the woman you have no reason to believe.” Her voice is quiet. Her body seems weak, exhausted, as her eyes slowly drop to the floor.

Leo feels his stomach twinge at the sight of the woman whose soul appears so broken and bruised, shattered to pieces.

“I saw you,” he says quietly, and her head slowly rises to look at him with bleak, empty eyes.

Leo takes a deep breath. “You were in the audience at the press conference a few weeks back.” He wets his lips. “I saw you and everything else seemed to disappear. All that was left was a woman I didn’t know and yet felt like I knew everything about.”

Her brown eyes blink in rapid motion and her nostrils flare every-so-slightly. She stares at him in anticipation, the stream of tears she had shed seemingly having come to a sudden halt, as if his words had been the force needed to repair the hole in her broken dam.

Leo takes a step closer to where she’s standing. He notices how she nervously clenches her fists.

“And then I saw that same woman again today. And she told me to leave. _Begged_ me to leave. Told me that there was a danger. That I should save myself… And I had _no_ reason to believe her.”

He shrugs and one corner of his mouth quirks up involuntarily. “Except I did… I believed her.”

He chuckles briefly and her eyes seem to lighten up for nothing but a split-second. “And here’s the really weird part—” He pauses, biting his lower lip. “Because even though I believed her, instead of taking her advice, I ran after her.”

Her eyes are fixed on him, and Leo can’t take his off her. It’s like she’s reaching into his soul, trying to pull him out of a dark hole that he hadn’t realized he’d fallen into, while at the same time pleading with him to rescue her from whatever dark abyss surrounded her.

Leo takes another step closer. He’s standing right in front of her now and feels an energy, a force that seems stronger than the gravitational pull he had to battle to save her from being swallowed by the gravitonium only a short while earlier.

“I ran after you and put my own life at risk to save yours.” He’s surprised by how quiet and calm his voice sounds. “I didn’t hesitate or doubt my actions. I just _knew_ that’s what I had to do.”

Leo notices her lips twitching nervously as her eyes once again become glassy. He forces himself to resist the urge to reach out his hand and let his thumb caress her tear-streaked cheek.

“Maybe I have no reason to believe you.” He briefly lifts his shoulders as a smile flashes across his face. “Except I do. I know you.” He shakes his head. “I may not remember, but I _know_ you and… I believe you.”

She stands frozen in front of him, her mouth slightly ajar, her lips opening and closing, barely noticeably. But she remains silent, doesn’t reply, like her voice is trapped inside a net of fear, hope and confusion. She reaches for her face with a trembling hand and wipes away the tears she’s unable to hold back.

Leo takes a deep breath. “So, you’re telling me all of this is a virtual world?”

She sniffles, nodding slightly.

Leo furrows his brows. “I’m not real?”

She shakes her head, exhaling a shaky breath. “You are in a way. But not… not this version of you.” She moves her shoulders and Leo notices her becoming more composed and alive. “Your mind was plugged in here… the Framework, that’s what it’s called… but your body is somewhere else, somewhere in the real physical world. And you didn’t come here voluntarily and neither did our friends and—”

“I’m a prisoner?”

She shrugs. “Yes. Basically. You were abducted, as well as four of our colleagues, our friends.”

“And you logged in to rescue me… us?”

“Yes. Daisy and I.”

Leo tries to ignore the loud thumping of his heart, like a person trapped in his chest, trying to escape. His eyes wander to the floor as his mind analyzes the information he’d been given, probability, implications, cause and effect.

He lifts his head. There’s a comforting warmth in the way she looks at him.

He wets his lips. Swallows. Prepares himself to ask the question that’s now burning on his tongue. “Who am I?”

The corners of her mouth quirk up. “You’re Leopold Fitz. You’re an engineer. An agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. You’re incredibly smart. Brilliant, really.”

Her eyes have a certain sparkle about them while she talks and Leo can’t help but smile at the passion with which speaks.

“Your instinct is to trust people, to believe in the good in people, to help. You build things to save people, to protect people. You’re good, and kind, and loyal, and brave, and—”

“I have it all.” He’s not sure why he interrupts her. It’s as if his mind has finally caught up with the situation and feels the urge to make its presence known. He scoffs briefly. “I have everything I could possibly want here.”

He shrugs, his eyes wandering to the floor, scanning everything and nothing. “But… something was missing. I told myself that there wasn’t, that there couldn't possibly be... but something wasn’t there and I didn’t know what it was.”

He looks up, gazes into her brown eyes, watches her lips pull into a wide smile.

He stares at her. She’s the missing piece. She’s right there. And yet the puzzle still won’t come together. The image is still incomplete, distorted, wrong.

“Why don’t I remember any of this?” He searches her eyes for an answer. “I mean… _you_ … there’s… _clearly_ there are some engrams of you, but everything else… why can’t I—?”

“Your memories were altered when you were put into this—Wait. Engrams?” She wrinkles her forehead.

“An engram, a memory trace.” Leo reaches for his shoulder, trying to massage away some of the built-up tension. “Engrams are the means by which memories are stored in the brain. The idea is that the brain never forgets anything, but it can lose connections to the engram, to _where_ the memory is stored and I don’t know why those connections are gone but some of it’s there… some memory traces of you are there and—”

“How do you know all that?” Her eyebrows are slightly furrowed.

He shrugs. “Know what?”

She gestures at him. “Engrams? Memory traces? That no memory is ever fully deleted?”

He straightens up, placing his hands on his hips. “How do I—?” He throws one hand in the air. “I have an I.Q. of 190.” He points at himself. “I’m an engineer, a scientist who works primarily in the medical field. I—”

“Ugh!”

Leo stops, surprised by her sudden outburst of exasperation.

“I’m not saying you don’t have the mental capacity to know these things,” she continues, “I’m asking _why_ you know this? Because you must have had a _reason_ to read about it or research it or—”

Nervously, Leo bites his lips. Part of his brain tries to tell him to stop, to not say anything else, but that part seems to be drowned out by the part that’s yearning to tell her everything, everything she wants to know, everything she hasn’t even asked to hear.

“I… I—” Leo takes a deep cleaning breath. “My dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s a few years ago and… well, it’s still in the early stages, but he’s been forgetting things and it’s hard… especially for my mum… He… he forgets details… one time he couldn’t even recall their wedding and… well… I just… I’ve been working on something to help restore memories. A device… it’s… it’s nowhere close to being ready for production but I’ve tested it on dad and he did start to remember certain things and—”

He stops, turning around to stare out the window, his hands back on his hips. “Gosh. Why am I telling you this?” He shakes his head. “We _never_ talk about ongoing projects with _anyone_ external and here I am talking to—” He turns back around, and gestures at her. “To _you_ and—”

“You built a memory machine?”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise. “Well, we’re not calling it that but—”

Her eyes seem to double in size. “But, Fitz, the process is excruciating and dangerous and—”

“What?” Leo squints his eyes, ignoring that she’d called him by his last name again. “No. Why would you say that?”

She lifts her shoulders. “Because we… we came across such a machine in the real physical world.” She gestures to the side. “Hydra had one. A theta brain-wave frequency machine to retrieve people’s memories. We confiscated it from them, studied it. Our Director was put through it, it was… it was painful to watch, let alone go through it!”

“No. It’s not painful. And it’s not… Hydra?” Leo exclaims. “I’m not. I already told you I’m not—”

He lets out a laugh.

“What?” she asks in confusion.

He massages his forehead, trying to keep the onset of a headache at bay. “I always have my best ideas when I dream.” He gestures at her. “Think about it. There are _plenty_ of theories out there about what’s going on when we dream… although none of them probably take into account that we’re living in a virtual world but—” He shrugs. “What if my brain is accessing—”

“—real memories while you sleep?” She’s looking slightly to one side as she speaks, and Leo feels like he can see her brain working.

“Exactly! What if me _literally_ dreaming up a memory machine was me—”

“—remembering the machine from the real world,” she finishes his sentence and he can’t help but smile at the familiarity of it all.

He shrugs. “—or at least its basic principles?”

She purses her lips. “I suppose it’s possible… I mean—”

She turns around in surprise and Leo looks up when the door suddenly opens and a young woman with long dark wavy hair wearing a pink party dress steps in.

“There you are!” she exclaims, gesturing at Jemma.

A smile flashes across Jemma’s face. “Daisy!”

The woman, Daisy, steps closer, seemingly ignoring him and focusing solely on Jemma Simmons. “So, he remember anything?”

Jemma shakes her head ever so slightly. “There are _traces_ of memories, but nothing specific. It appears to be similar to what you described May and Coulson said about _you_ , except… stronger.”

Leo waves his hands in front of his face in an outwards motion. “I’m standing _right_ here. Could you not talk about me like I’m invisible or something?”

The dark-haired woman turns around to face him, a grin appearing on her lips. “Hi. Daisy Johnson, the other half of the virtual rescue team.” She gestures with her thumb at Jemma, before pointing at herself while taking a step in Leo’s direction. “I’m kinda your best friend. Well, Jemma aside. And you—” She points at him with both index fingers. “Kind of a brother figure.” She stops and smiles shyly. “I’ve missed you.”

Leo squints his eyes in slight confusion. Hesitantly, he walks over to her and extends his hand.

She shakes it firmly. “Well. That’s _slightly_ awkward, but I’ll take it.” She turns her head in Jemma’s direction. “Hand’s here. She wants to know what’s going on.”

Jemma sighs and nods. “Why don’t you bring everyone here?”

“Sure thing.” Daisy nods. She lets go of Leo’s hand, shooting him another shy smile, before turning around and leaving the room.

Leo’s eyes linger for a moment on the open door, before bringing his attention back to Jemma, who looks at him with anticipation.

He shrugs. “I still barely know what’s going on.”

A smile flashes across her face. “I know. I’m sorry, Fitz, I’ll—”

“Leo.”

She presses her lips into a thin line, nodding vehemently. “Yes. Of course. I’m sorry, Leo.” She swallows. “Hand is the Director of S.H.I.E.L.D.… in this world anyway. She’s helping us find the people who have been abducted… and to find a way to bring you back into the real world. But none of the people we’ve managed to talk to—you included—have retained any memories from the real world and well, Daisy and my hope had been that you’d be able to at least give us _clues_ as to where your bodies are being held because we haven’t been able to trace the origin of the Framework, but maybe—”

Leo nods as some of the puzzle pieces fall into place. “Maybe my memory machine—”

He voice is barely above a whisper. “Maybe.”

He nods in agreement. _Maybe._

The door opens and Daisy Johnson returns with four people in tow. Leo recognizes one of them as the man who had interrupted Jemma and him earlier, Hunter.

Johnson stops between where Jemma and Leo are standing and the new arrivals. She gestures at the four people. “May I introduce: Victoria Hand, Director of S.H.I.E.L.D., Jeffrey Mace, aka The Patriot, Lance Hunter, aka British dude I can never understand, and Antoine Trip Triplett, hottest agent to ever walk this earth.”

“Well, at least she called me a hunky hunk the other day,” Hunter remarks. His head is tilted in the direction of the guy Johnson had introduced as Antoine Trip Triplett.

Victoria Hand shoots the two agents an ice-cold glare, before returning her attention to Leo and Jemma. “Agent Simmons, what’s our status with regard to the Framework situation?”

Leo’s not sure he’s ever heard someone talk quite so matter-of-factly and properly before. He notices how the woman’s natural authority seems to make everyone in the room—including himself if he had to be honest—hold their breaths in anticipation.

“I’ve brought Fitz… I mean, Leo up to speed as far as I could in the time given,” Jemma replies.

“And you’re coming back with us, right? Real world?”

Surprised, Leo looks in Johnson’s direction. His mouth gapes slightly ajar, unsure of how to respond.

“Has your presence triggered any of Mr. Fitz’s real-life memories?” Hand asks Simmons, and Leo exhales a sigh of relief that he’d found a way around answering Daisy’s question.

“No. Only traces of memories, it seems. As with the other subjects,” Jemma repeats what she had told Daisy earlier. She glances at Leo, inhaling loudly through her open mouth. “But Leo has been working on a machine that can restore lost memories,” she continues and Leo nervously looks at Hand to gauge her reaction. “If I understand correctly,” Jemma adds, “though it is not fully functioning yet, it has shown some encouraging results in a test trial… Maybe we could use it to—”

“A memory machine?” Daisy interrupts her, her eyes burning with a fiery anger that Leo doesn’t understand. “Fuck, Jemma, virtual world or not, we can’t put our people through that. I mean just _watching_ Coulson go through that thing. It’s… That thing is—”

Leo raises his hand defensively and takes a step closer to Johnson. “Okay, listen, whatever machine you encountered in the real work, _clearly_ works _nothing_ like what I’ve designed.” He shrugs. “I mean… I mean I used it on my dad… Would I use it on my dad if—”

“ _Your dad?_ ” Johnson lets out a sarcastic single laugh, while her eyes remain angry and burning. “Your dad was a bullying, abusive piece of _shit_ , so I’m sorry if you telling me that you used your little torture machine on that deadbeat excuse of a father isn’t particularly comforting!”

Leo feels as if the air has been punched out of his lungs. “Wha—?”

“Daisy!” Jemma exclaims, seemingly panic-stricken.

Leo’s eyes wander between the two women.

Bully? Deadbeat? Abusive?

Daisy's words make Leo’s head spin. His heart is beating frantically and he feels as if an iron fist is pressing down on his ribcage, making it impossible to breathe.

He clenches his jaw and struts over to where Johnson is standing. He raises his hands, clenches them, forces himself not to grab her and shake her. “What the _fuck_ are you talking about?” He yells at her, his face only inches away from hers and she stares at him with wide-open eyes. “Why would you—? My dad—”

Leo stops himself. He feels dizzy. His skin is tingling with anger and confusion. He stares at Johnson in front of him, then turns to face Jemma, who looks back at him with apologetic eyes.

He stumbles backwards, his eyes anxiously looking at the remaining people in the room. Then he turns on his heels and storms to the sliding door, opening it with frantic hands. He stumbles outside, squints at the sunlight beaming down on him, and turns around to close the door behind him.

His eyes catch sight of Jemma, whose lips mouth his name. “Leo.”

He turns around and walks over to the stone railing, leaning on it, trying to catch his breath.

Bully? Deadbeat? Abusive?

* * *

* * *

“Fuck. Shit. Jemma, I forgot. I forgot that his dad here… _Fuck!_ I’m—”

Jemma shakes her head, rubbing her tired forehead. “It’s okay, Daisy. I’ll… I’ll talk to him.”

“Very well, Agent Simmons. We’ll wait here.” Hand lifts her head encouragingly.

Slowly, Jemma walks to the sliding door, opens it and slips outside.

She walks until she stands next to where he’s still leaning on the stone railing, focused on a single spot on the lawn.

Jemma clears her throat. For a moment, his eyes glance at her and she notices a thin curtain of tears, before he looks back at his previous point of nothingness in the lush green scenery of the yard.

“Why did she say that?” His voice is barely above a whisper, as if he were afraid to ask the question in the first place.

Jemma swallows and takes a step closer, leaning her hands on the railing as well. “Because it’s the truth.”

He shakes his head. “No. No. My dad—”

“Fitz,” she tries to plead, but his head shoots around and he glares at her angrily.

“Why do you keep calling me that?” he yells, taking a step closer, his body leaning forward. He gestures at himself, but his face inches closer and Jemma backs away, her heart beating frantically in her chest. “Why do you keep calling me by my last name when you’re supposed to be my best friend? My partner? The love of my life? I’m Leo. I’m—”

“Because you _hate_ being called Leo,” Jemma screams in his face, unable to keep her pent-up emotions in check any longer.

He backs away, staring at her in silence.

Jemma points at him, every body in her cell flooded with overwhelming electricity. “You _hate_ it, because that’s what _he_ called you!”

Jemma takes a step closer, gesturing wildly, and his eyes look back at her in confusion and disbelief as he backs up further, one hand holding on to the railing.

“He’d put you down,” Jemma continues to yell, unable to stop, unable to calm down, to regroup. “He’d call you _stupid_ and _no good_ and he’d _bark_ your name at you. ‘Try again, _Leopold_!’ ‘Not good enough, _Leo_!’ Until the sound of your own name made you _flinch_!”

She pauses, her lungs forcing her to breathe. She notices his chest rising and falling. He must be as agitated and anxious as she was right now.

Jemma blinks, feeling tears shoot to her eyes. She exhales and forces herself to continue more calmly, her eyes gazing at the ground.

“And when he left, when he _finally_ left, you _begged_ your mum to stop calling you by your first name. Because every time you heard it, you’d hear him, and you’d feel small and dumb and unworthy.”

She looks up and sees him standing with head hanging low, tears streaming down his face.

“So you became Fitz,” she says barely above a whisper.

Frantically, Fitz wipes away his tears and looks up. He stares at her, shaking his head.

“No. _No!_ He… My dad _loves_ me!” He gestures into the landscape. “My dad’s _always_ supported me. He was there for _every_ big event of my life. He… he’s scared _shitless_ of flying and yet when Holden and I founded our company, he flew to L.A. for the big opening. He… he—”

He stops, and a sad laugh escapes his lips that lets Jemma wrinkled her forehead in confusion.

“Oh God,” he gasps, running his hand through his hair and fighting back tears. “Bullying. Anti-bullying.” He’s struggling to catch his breath and Jemma resists the urge to reach for his arm to try and calm him, wrapping her arms around herself instead.

“It’s been my favorite charity,” he admits, his eyes wandering aimlessly. “And I never knew why… why it seemed so important to me.”

“I’m sorry, Leo.”

He scoffs. Then he looks up and the blue of his eyes is dark and pleading, filled with fear.

“What about my mum?”

A smile flashes across Jemma’s face. “Your mum’s always been your biggest fan. She did everything she could to ensure that you could _do_ and _achieve_ whatever it was you were striving for. She is one of the most wonderful and kind people I’ve ever met… well… maybe with the exception of the man she raised.”

A single tear escapes his eye and he wipes it away with his trembling hand. He exhales sharply. Once. Twice. Then he looks at her again. “My dad introduced me to Holden.” He shakes his head. “That… that never happened, did it?”

Jemma shakes her head. “No. We met Radcliffe only about a year ago and he… he’s responsible for—” She looks around and gestures at their surroundings. “— _this_ … actually.”

Fitz silently shakes his head in disbelief, his mouth slightly ajar, his eyes seemingly looking at everything and nothing.

“Your dad left when you were ten years old.” Jemma looks at him, hoping his eyes will eventually find hers again. “And instead of trying to please _him_ , you started to… to do everything _you’ve_ always wanted to do. You worked hard for everything and you… you joined S.H.I.E.L.D…. went to the Academy… and that’s… that’s where we met. We got paired up in chem lab.” She chuckles at the happy memory.

Slowly, he lifts his head, biting his lower lip and Jemma feels like she can hear him think.

“I never went to the Academy,” he mumbles quietly. “I never met you. Because I had him. Because he didn’t leave. I never met you. I met Holden instead. I started… started my business.” He shrugs. “All of this, everything I am—because my dad didn’t leave, because he supported me, because he never said a bad word to me.”

Jemma wipes a tear off her cheek. “Yes.”

“Your world.” He pauses. “ _Our_ world. The _real_ world. Is it good? Is it better? My life there? Our life?” He shrugs.

Jemma drops her head back, chuckling sadly. She exhales a shaky breath. “No.” She presses her lips together, trying to keep herself from breaking down in tears.

“Our world has caused us so much pain. You’ve been hurt, both physically and emotionally. You’ve been betrayed… even by me, in a way.”

Her voice breaks, and once again all that seems left of her are tears and sadness, but she forces herself to continue, to tell him the truth. He deserved the truth.

“We’ve lost friends. We lost ourselves. More than once. We’ve been torn apart, and had to fight our way back to each other over and over again, only to see us getting hurt, getting ripped apart again.”

She inhales, slows down her breathing, and lifts her shoulders, shaking her head ever so slightly.

“But… but even with all that pain, all those struggles and dangers, at least we… we’re together, to hold each other, to pick each other up and glue ourselves back together and start over and keep fighting, keep fighting _together_ to try and make this world better, safer.”

She shrugs. “Our world isn’t better, Leo, but we’re trying. We defeated Hydra. We came out on top, and I started to believe that no problem was too hard to handle as long as we could face it together. And I’ve been dreading to tell you any of this because… because why would you want to come back with me, when you have everything you could ask for here, when you can be happy and safe? Why would you want to come back with me, when all that’s waiting at the other side is pain and death and—?”

“How do I get back?”

She stares at him wide-eyed. “What?”

He looks at her, full of sincerity. “How do I get back to the real world? With you?”

“You… you want to—?”

He lets out a quiet laugh that lets his eyes sparkle with the familiar piercing blue she’d missed so much. “Are you _seriously_ going to try and convince me _not_ to, when the _sole_ reason why you logged into this world was to get me and our friends _out_ of here?”

Jemma chuckles sadly. “Yes, but—?”

He takes a step closer and Jemma falls silent.

He lets out a deep sighs. “Maybe my childhood, my past has been happy and bright. Maybe I have everything I need here. Maybe I’m safe here and rich and famous, but in the last few years, I’ve looked at the world and it’s… it’s bleak and dark and the future seems… well, _anything_ but bright and I feel like there’s _nothing_ I can do to stop it. Like I’m completely helpless!”

He shrugs, tilting his head and gazing at her, a gentle smile playing on his lips. “So, maybe, in the real world, I’ve endured pain and betrayal and the world’s not perfect, but… what you’re describing to me… what we _are_ , what S.H.I.E.L.D. _does_ , what they’ve _achieved_ … that… that sounds _hopeful_! And I’d rather have a bleak past and a bright future, a future that I can shape and influence than the other way around.”

He wets his lips and Jemma feels lost in his eyes, in his words that seem to surround her like a warm blanket.

“You came here to get me back, Jemma.”

A smile flashes across her face at the sound of her own name in his voice.

“You said you don’t want to live in a world that doesn’t have me in it and that I’ve said the same about you.” Fitz shrugs. “Well, it sounds to me like this world, that isn’t even _real_ , doesn’t give us that option because… because even if you stayed here, it _still_ wouldn’t be right because we would have lost our past together and I… I don’t want to lose that. I can’t explain it. I know I don’t _remember_ it, but I … I _can’t_ lose that. I can’t lose _you_! I can’t lose the future you imply we could have.”

Her chin quivers, as another flood of tears break through to the surface. Jemma wants to smile and laugh and cry. She wants to kiss him and hold him tight and never let go.

But this wasn’t him. It _still_ wasn’t him. It still wasn’t Fitz. This Leopold Fitz still didn’t remember her. Not specifically.

But he believed her and trusted her and remembered their love.

And for now, that would have to be enough. It was enough. Enough to move forward. To look to the future with hope in her chest. They would fix this. Together.

Jemma smiles at him. “Thank you,” she whispers.

The corners of his mouth quirk up and he nods. “Could you… could you give me a moment? I’ll come right back inside. Just… it’s a lot to take in. I need another minute of fresh air.”

“Yes. Of course, Leo.”

* * *

Jemma closes the sliding door behind herself and walks closer to the waiting group of people.

“He’ll be right back. Just needs another minute. But, it’s all good. He… he’ll… he wants to come home.”

Her body starts shaking, once again overwhelmed by pent-up emotions, the dramatic events of the day, and the relief of knowing she hadn’t lost him.

Daisy pulls her into a tight hug, and Jemma allows herself to cry on her friend’s shoulder.

“I’m so sorry about earlier,” Daisy stammers in her ear. “I forgot. I—”

“Ummm,” Hunter pipes up. “Should we be at all concerned that the guy’s talking on the phone?”

Jemma lifts her head and—like everyone else—looks to where Hunter is gesturing.

Fitz is standing sideways, his phone pressed to his ear, kicking the ground with the tip of his shoe.

He hangs up and seems surprised when he sees everyone staring at him through the glass window. He walks up and slides the door open.

“I’m… I’m sorry about my little… outburst,” he mumbles apologetically as he steps inside. “Apparently I have a temper.”

“And I’m sorry I sprung that whole thing on you,” Daisy chimes in, taking a step closer. “I just kinda spaced out about what’s real _here_ and what’s _real_ real and—”

“Who were you talking to on the phone?” Hand asks matter-of-factly, interrupting Daisy.

Fitz glances over at Jemma, who nods ever so slightly, trying to encourage him to tell the truth.

“That was Holden. Holden Radcliffe. He called, asking if I made it out okay when the earthquake hit.” He shrugs. “Apparently Quinn gave him and Agnes a ride to the airfield with his chopper. Holden lost sight of me at the shareholders meeting, ‘cause, well, I ran after _her_.” He points at Jemma with his thumb. “He was worried. That’s all.”

“What did you tell him?” Daisy asks.

Fitz lifts his shoulders. “Told him, I’m fine. That I took the rental yacht back to the harbor but that my jet has some kind of technical issue that they’re currently fixing, so I’m still stuck here.”

“You lied?”

“Figured I’m not quite dismissed here yet and… well, I need to know what happens next. What can I do? Help us get out?”

A smile flashes across Jemma’s face.

Hand crosses her arms in front of her chest. “The memory-recovering device you mentioned, Mr. Fitz. There’s a working prototype?”

Fitz nods. “Yes. At our main lab in L.A.”

Hand lifts her chin ever so slightly. “Would you be able to retrieve it and bring it to our headquarters in D.C. without arousing suspicion? The Framework mission cannot interfere with the normal ongoings in this world.”

Fitz glances at Jemma, who can’t help smile at the fact that he’s looking to her for reassurance.

“Umm, yeah, sure,” Fitz replies. “It’s _my_ prototype. Plus, we have a lab in D.C. I can tell Holden, I need to collaborate with someone there if he asks at all.”

“Agent Simmons.” Encouraged by the stern voice of her Director, Jemma forces herself to look away from Fitz. “You believe that this device would be able to trigger the memories of the hostages in the Framework? Determine if they have any clues as to the whereabouts of their physical bodies?”

Jemma opens and closes her mouth several times, before replying. “Well, I can’t say for sure without having seen and studied the device, but if it does what Fitz… Leo says, then, yes, it could be useful.”

Hand turns her head to face Daisy. “Agent Johnson, you seemed to have reservations earlier.”

Daisy crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Yeah, I… I withdraw my reservations.” She gestures at Fitz with one thumb. “If he says it’s not as fucked-up and painful as the machine we encountered in the real world, then… heck, if it can trigger some real memories and help us get out of here, I’m all for it.”

Hand bops her head once. “Very well. Agent Johnson, I suggest you return to L.A. to continue your undercover work within Hydra. Make sure to inform Agent May and Phil of the new developments.”

Daisy purses her lips. “Yeah, suppose that’s the smart thing to do.”

Hand addresses Mace, next. “Patriot, would you be willing to test the memory machine that Mr. Fitz has developed, once it is in our headquarters.”

“Most certainly.”

“Excellent.” Hand returns her attention to Fitz. “Mr. Fitz, I hope you don’t mind me taking certain precautions. First of all, I want to ensure that you don’t change your mind and turn on us. I cannot afford having S.H.I.E.L.D.’s secrets fall into enemy hands. Agents Johnson and Simmons may inherently trust you with their lives, but you have not yet earned this kind of trust when it comes to me. And second of all, I’d like to ensure that nothing happens to the device, or you for that matter.”

“What kind of precautions are we talking about?” Fitz asks, a noticeable nervous tremor in his voice.

“I’d like for Agents Hunter and Simmons to accompany you to L.A..”

Hunter looks around in slight confusion and points at himself. “Me? With them?” He gestures at Fitz and Jemma.

Hand’s head shoots around, her eyes glaring at Hunter. “Agent Hunter, you are one of my most trusted operatives, despite often being a pain in my ass. Moreover, you and Agent Simmons have a reputation of working excellently together, and I want to ensure her safety as much as that of Mr. Fitz and the device that is to be retrieved. So _yes_ , you. With them.” She tilts her head from his direction towards Jemma and Fitz.

Hunter begins to gesture widely, pointing from person to person. “Did she just say ‘ass’? Did everybody else hear that too? She… she actually used the word ‘ass’!”

“You might wanna tone it down, man!” Trip chimes in, placing one hand on Hunter’s shoulder.

Hand sends a few silent daggers in Hunter’s direction with her eyes but refrains from any verbal comebacks. Instead she looks at Jemma. “Agent Simmons, any objections to accompanying Mr. Fitz to L.A.?”

“No, Ma’am.” Jemma shakes her head, unable to hide a smile.

“Excellent. Lastly. Agents Johnson and Simmons, you have permission to let Agent May and Phil try the device in L.A., _as long_ as neither _their_ covers nor _yours_ and Mr. Fitz’s are in danger of being exposed.”

Daisy gives Hand two thumbs up. “Sounds good. I’m sure the Head of Security at Hydra would _love_ to get a private tour of RadFitz Technologies.”

A jolt seems to run through Fitz’s body. Nervously, he looks from Hand and Daisy to Jemma and back. “The… the Head of… _What?_ No. _No!_ I’m not letting Hydra into—”

Daisy raises her hands defensively. “ _Fake_ Head of Security. She’s an undercover S.H.I.E.L.D. agent.”

Jemma exhales sharply. “How about we cross that bridge when we come to it?” she suggests, trying to diffuse the situation.

“I agree with Agent Simmons,” Hand adds. “Agent Trip, Patriot, we should wrap things up here and head back to our base. Agent Johnson, do you need a ride anywhere?”

Daisy shakes her head. “Nope, I’m good. No worries.”

Hand turns to face Fitz. “Mr. Fitz? You mentioned a yacht and private jet?”

Once again, Fitz’s eyes briefly dart to Jemma for reassurance. He nods. “Yes. Yes. I’ll… I’ll take Agents Hunter and… Simmons with me.”

“Excellent. Let’s get this show on the road then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your comments and kudos.
> 
> Yep, you see correctly: Estimated chapter count now up to 14. I decided I'll probably add an Epilogue ;)


	8. I won't let you choke (on the noose around your neck)

Fitz takes a step onto the relatively small yacht. He smiles politely as he stretches out his hand to help Jemma over the threshold.

Unable to suppress a grin at the somewhat old-fashioned gesture, Jemma grabs his hand and steps onto the boat.

Hunter follows suit, looking around, taking in the vessel. “You know, I’d think you could afford something a little bigger.”

“I can,” Fitz replies, squinting his eyes in Hunter’s direction. “But what’s the point in wasting money on a rental yacht when all I need it for is to get from the marina to Quinn’s estate and back? You should see my yacht in L.A. Quite sure you’ll find it a lot more impressive.”

Hunter scrunches his face, tilting his head side to side as if to mock Fitz, who, however, ignores the annoying Brit.

Fitz takes of his suit jacket and throws it nonchalantly through the open door of the cabin, before turning back to face Hunter and Jemma.

“That feels better. I hate these goddamn suits.” He begins rolling up his sleeves. “Especially in this kinda weather. I mean, I know there’s plenty of downsides to being a woman at one of those god-awful parties and being ogled by all of those fucking pervs, but sometimes I’d seriously prefer to be able to walk around in something light and airy like you guys, rather than a bloody three-piece-suit in 40 degree weather.”

He looks at Jemma, who hugs herself, suddenly strangely aware of how little fabric her black jumpsuit is made of.

Fitz gestures with his thumb towards the upper deck where the flying bridge is. “Can one of you steer this thing? I need to make some phone calls.”

Hunter crosses his arms in front of his chest, wrinkling his forehead skeptically. “More phone calls?”

Jemma slumps her shoulders, rolling her eyes. “Hunter.”

Hunter turns to face her, while gesturing with his hand at Fitz, who’s tucked his hands into his pockets, seemingly in an annoyed state of resignation.

“Simmons! Come on! You don’t think it’s a bit suspicious that Mr. Just-merged-his-company-with-a-known-Hydra-affiliate insists on making more phone calls?”

Fitz removes his hands from his pockets, placing them on his hips instead. “Not that it’s _any_ of your bloody business, mate, but the merger wasn’t exactly my idea. And I think if I don’t get in touch with people who are expecting my calls, they’ll get suspicious far easier than if I call them.”

Jemma exhales sharply, trying to figure out how to mediate between the two hotheads. “Who do you want to call?”

Fitz turns to face her, rubbing the back of his neck “I should give Holden an update. Let him know that I’m taking off in a while and when I’ll be back in L.A. I also need to call my assistant about a couple of things, and in case this little—” His hands come up to form air quotes around the next word. “—‘earthquake’ has been all over the news by now, I want to call my mum and let her know I’m okay.”

Jemma can’t help but smile at the mention of his mum. She turns to face Hunter, addressing him by his name.

“What?” Hunter replies grumpily, his arms still crossed in front of his chest, his skeptical eyes still darting in Fitz’s direction.

Jemma rolls her eyes. “You know how to steer the yacht?”

Hunter shrugs. “Yeah, of course I do.”

Jemma shakes her head ever so slightly, and sighs. “Then why don’t you go and do that?”

Hunter exhales sharply, dropping his arms and relaxing his posture. “Fine. Just… keep an eye on him,” he adds, pointing at Fitz, who’s grinning smugly.

“I will,” Jemma confirms, raising her eyebrows and gesturing towards the ladder to the upper deck to give Hunter a final clue.

Hunter walks up to the ladder and looks around as he begins climbing up to the flying bridge. “Gotta admit, it’s a damn fine boat. Small but powerful.”

* * *

Hunter lets out an impressed whistle as he steps into the private jet, taking in the interior, the large off-white leather seats and faux-wood paneling. “Alright, I’ll admit. This is _pret-ty_ neat.”

“I’ll have to talk to the pilot,” Fitz says, gesturing to the cockpit with his head. “Get yourselves comfortable.”

The engines of the plane start up when Fitz returns to the seating area a few minutes later. “Should be in the air in no time.”

He sits down across from Jemma and Hunter and buckles up.

It’s only moments later that the plane accelerates and takes off. Involuntarily, Jemma grabs the armrests of her leather seat, watching her knuckles turn white. She’d never been afraid of flying, but in this world everything is so surreal and distorted that Jemma’s senses seem to be in a constant state of hypersensitivity. She relaxes once the plane has reached cruising altitude.

She glances up and sees Fitz looking back at her, the hint of a smile playing on his lips. “My dad’s like that. Scared shitless whenever he has to fly. I’ve always waited for the day when he’d actually rip the armrest out.”

Jemma chuckles briefly, feeling her cheeks blush. “Well, I’m not _actually_ afraid of flying. Not _usually_ anyways. It’s just—”

“—been a long day?”

“Precisely.”

His blue eyes look at her, and Jemma feels a familiar warm feeling of comfort rising in her chest.

“You’ve got anything to drink on this fancy plane of yours?”

A slight sting rushes through Jemma’s heart when Hunter’s question lets Fitz break his eye contact.

“Umm, yeah.” Fitz unbuckles and stands up, rubbing his hands together. “What can I get you? Water, tea, coffee, Scotch, champagne?”

“Oh, mate, I’ll never say no to a good Scotch and something tells me you have some of the finest. Neat please!”

“Alright, one Scotch neat and—” Fitz looks at Jemma expectantly.

“Water will be fine,” Jemma says quietly.

A smile flashes across his face and he nods, before turning on his heels to head to where the flight attendant is standing next to the door to the galley, smiling widely and crossing her hands behind her back.

Jemma watches him as he politely passes on their drink orders, gently placing his hand on the attendant’s upper arm as his lips seem to mouth _Thank you_ , before turning around and heading back to the seats.

Fitz sits back down. He leans back in his chair and crosses one leg over the other. “It’ll be just a second.”

The flight attendant indeed shows up only moments later with a small tray and their respective drinks.

“Thanks, Julie,” Fitz says, getting half-way out of his seat to hand Jemma her water before taking one glass of Scotch for himself and handing the other to Hunter.

“Thanks, Julie, indeed,” Hunter adds, raising his glass towards the flight attendant, who smiles politely, before heading down the aisle to disappear in the cockpit.

Fitz takes a sip of his drink and places it on the small table attached to his seat. He leans back in his chair. “So, you said that Holden in your world is responsible for the Framework and for abducting me and the others and putting us in here against our will?”

“Yes,” Jemma confirms.

“And you and Daisy escaped?”

“Yes. And a few other agents.”

Fitz shifts in his seat. “But then… Is Holden in _here_ nothing but an avatar or is he from the real world as well?”

Jemma lowers her gaze, realizing that she’d never thought about it. She looks back up and shrugs, glancing first at Hunter and then Fitz. “I don’t know, to be honest. But, it would _appear_ that even though Radcliffe _maintains_ that he’s created the Framework as a world without pain or _less_ pain, the fact that he’s putting people in against their will, replacing them with LMDs—”

Fitz leans slightly forward, placing both feet on the ground and resting his forearms on his knees. He wrinkles his forehead. “What now?”

“LMDs,” Jemma explains, “Life Model Decoys. Androids.”

Fitz’s eyes double in size as he sits up straight, letting his back fall against the off-white leather upholstery. “Holy shit!”

“Yep. Couldn’t believe that part myself, mate,” Hunter chimes in, bringing his glass to his lips, one index finger extended in Fitz’s direction. He takes a sip, slurping audibly. “Although _that_ was easier to accept than the whole virtual world and I’m-not-real thing.”

Jemma exhales sharply to get their attention. “Yes, anyways, since Radcliffe replaced you and the others, practically trying to take over S.H.I.E.L.D. headquarters with the agenda to destroy all Inhumans and God-knows-what else, I’m starting to have some _serious_ doubts about his ‘well-meaning’ intentions. It sounds to me as if the Darkhold corrupted his already slightly corrupt mind, and he’s now striving to take over S.H.I.E.L.D. or the world or who knows what.”

“Darkhold?” Fitz’s confused eyes dart between Jemma and Hunter.

“Don’t look at me, mate.” Hunter raises his hands in defense. “Ever since _this_ version of her popped up in my life three weeks ago, it’s been nothing but confusing.” He gestures at Jemma with his head.

Jemma sighs. “The Darkhold is a book, an _evil_ book that seems to—”

Jemma stops herself, noticing Fitz’s eyes widen in confusion.

She slumps her shoulders. “You know what. I’m not sure it’s imperative for you to know all the details at this point.” She takes a deep breath. “Radcliffe created the Framework seemingly to take out _all_ major operatives within S.H.I.E.L.D. and replace them with his robot minions to do his bidding. To _me_ , it doesn’t make sense that he would be logged into the Framework himself. _Alas_ , I _assume_ the Holden Radcliffe _you_ know is an avatar and nothing more.”

Fitz groans, leaning forward and placing his head in his hands, running them through his hair and back down his neck before straightening up in his seat. His eyes glare at Jemma in exhaustion. “You’re making my head hurt.”

Hunter raises his glass. “Welcome to my world.”

* * *

Silence falls onto the cabin; the only sounds resonating from the engines. Hunter stares out of the window, while Jemma watches the water swirl in her glass.

Leo is about to stand up and fetch his laptop to get some work done, when he notices an incoming message. He turns his left forearm up and slides two fingers over his skin to reveal the text.

“What the serious fuck?”

Surprised, Leo looks up and at Hunter, who stares at him wide-eyed.

“You’re a transhumanist?” Jemma’s voice is calmer than Hunter’s, but her eyes seem just as surprised as her colleague’s.

“Umm. Well,” Leo mutters like a child caught with one hand in the cookie jar, his eyes darting back and forth between the two people sitting across from him. “Sort of. I mean… not as hardcore as others, but some things are… well… convenient.” He twists his forearm to the side to give them a better look.

“I suppose it’s not surprising, considering Radcliffe’s background,” Jemma mumbles quietly, more to herself than to anyone else it seems.

But Hunter is still glaring at Leo, leaning slightly forward, his arse lifted from his seat. “And what the serious fuck are you doing with that convenient and creepy as fuck piece of tech implant?”

Leo shrugs. “My assistant sent me a message. He’s getting the apartment ready.”

Hunter jumps up from his seat, gesturing wildly at Leo, who presses himself against the back of his seat, unsure where else to go. “Getting the apartment ready? Oh _yeah_? Like _what_? Has the firing squad arrived?”

“Of for fuck’s sake!” Leo pushes himself out of his seat until he stands in front of Hunter. “Could you stop with your bloody paranoia?”

Leo points down the aisle towards the front of the plane. “He’s making sure the beds have clean sheets and the guest bathrooms are stocked and there’s some _bloody_ extra clothes waiting for you. Or are you planning on walking around L.A. in your tact gear?” He gestures up and down Hunter’s military outfit. “I called him earlier and left a message and he just confirmed that he’s getting things ready!”

Hunter takes a step back, raising his hands apologetically. “Okay. Alright. Sorry, mate.” He plops himself back down on the leather seat. “I’m just—” He shrugs. “You know, when you’re being told that you’re nothing but zeroes and ones, you start to get a bit touchy about things… it’s hard to process.”

“Oh yeah?” Leo pulls up his trousers and tucks his shirt in more neatly. “How ‘bout you’re being told that your mind is plugged into a virtual world while your body is being held hostage somewhere and you have no recollection of your own life?”

Leo sits back down himself, his eyes fixed on Hunter.

Hunter tilts his head and raises his eyebrows. “Yeah, well, I don’t know, mate, at least once this world is shut down, you still exist. I mean, I—”

“ _Shut up!_ ”

Leo’s head shoots in Jemma’s direction, who’s gripping the armrests of her seat.

“Both of you just _shut up!_ ”

She pushes herself out of her chair and Leo notices how tense her body seems.

“You have _no_ idea!” she yells at them, and Leo feels his stomach tighten uncomfortably.

Jemma turns to face Hunter, who stares at her wide-eyed and shocked. “Hunter, I’m sorry that you’re not real, but let’s face it, you won’t even _notice_ when we shut down this goddamn place, because _you’re. not. real_!”

Her head shoots in Leo’s direction. “And Fitz, _yes_ , you don’t know where your body is being held, and your mind is plugged in here against your will and you don’t remember what happened in the real world, but does it maybe occur to you that that’s a _good_ thing? That right now, you’re unconscious somewhere not knowing or remembering or feeling _any_ of the things Daisy and I went through?”

She gestures at herself before throwing her hand in his direction. “And the memories you have of this world aren’t exactly painful either, are they?”

She jabs her fingers into her own chest. “You didn’t have to watch people you consider your friends and family turn into robot monsters. You didn’t have to stand eye to eye with the man you _love_ , not knowing if it was _you_ or _him_ who was nothing but wires and programming. You didn’t have to struggle with the _guilt_ of forcing him to cut his own arm to see if he was real.” She mimics a slicing motion on her own wrist, as her eyes fill with tears.

Leo notices his breathing quicken as he watches the petite brown-haired woman break down in anger; the woman he felt so close to despite the forced distance between them.

“You didn’t have to think that because he was _bleeding_ and in _pain_ that it was _you_ who was the LMD. You didn’t have to watch him turn from the man you _love_ to a cold-hearted _machine_ that stabbed you and knocked you unconscious with a bloody paint can. You didn’t have to wake up tied to a chair, with that thing _acting_ like the man you love, _sounding_ like the man you love, talking about procuring a future free of pain, talking about _marriage_ , and growing old together, while all _you_ could think about was where they had taken him, if he was even alive.”

Furiously, she wipes her tears away, her fiery eyes glaring back and forth between Leo and Hunter. “You didn’t have to convince yourself that this _wasn’t_ him; that it was a _machine_. You didn’t grab a _knife_ and ram it into his chest while he pleaded with you in _his_ voice to stop one moment, only to try and _choke_ you to death the next.”

Her hands begin to tremble and her chin quivers. Her voice sounds shaky and close to breaking when she continues. “You didn’t have to stab him _nine_ times until he finally _shut up_ ; _nine_ times until his eyes turned empty and dead. You didn’t have to tell yourself that it _wasn’t_ him; that you hadn’t just killed the man you wanted to spend the rest of your life with.”

With every word she speaks, Leo feels like a fist is clenching down on his heart. His head is spinning, thinking about what she’s describing, those horrid memories she’s recounting.

“You don’t have to wake up _every_ night with the same nightmare.” He voice is quiet now. Weak. Exhausted. Her gaze is dropping to the floor as her eyes rapidly try to blink away tears. “The one where it _was_ him. The one where you killed _him_ and not a machine.”

She looks back up; anger and fury having returned to her eyes, which seem almost black rather than hazel. “You didn’t experience _any_ of that,” she says firmly.

She straightens up, glaring at Leo and Hunter. “So if you two think _you_ can win your little who-has-it-worse competition—” she growls through her teeth. “ _Think again!_ ”

Her chest is heaving up and down and she stares at the two men, before turning around and hustling down the aisle towards the galley.

Hunter is the first to find his voice. “Simmons!” he exclaims, pushing himself half-way up from sitting.

“Please,” Leo interrupts him, gesturing to sit back down, while Leo gets up himself. “I’m… I’m the one who caused all this. _I’m_ the one who has his face and the face of that… that _thing_ that hurt her and that took him from her and—” He gestures at himself. “Let me try and talk to her, please?”

Hunter drops back onto the seat and nods silently.

Leo straightens his shirt and pauses briefly before heading towards the galley where a confused flight attendant is standing.

“Could you wait in the cockpit or in the back, please, Julie?”

“Of course Mr. Fitz.” Quietly, Julie scuttles to the cockpit and disappears inside, whispering something to the surprised pilots.

Leo looks through the open door of the galley. Jemma’s standing with her back to the door, her entire body shaking, her hands slightly raised, seemingly unsure of where to put them, what to do.

She’s trapped in fight or flight with nowhere to run and no one to fight.

Quietly Leo steps into the small kitchen. He stretches out his hand and gently touches her shoulder.

* * *

Instinctively, Jemma’s arm swings around in a circular motion, her hand grabbing her attacker’s forearm tightly. She turns around, spinning the aggressor’s body until she can twist his arm and press it up against his back.

He screams out in pain.

As quickly as Jemma had reacted to the sensation of someone grabbing her shoulder while her mind was trapped in an ever-recurring nightmare, as quickly she lets go in shock when she realizes where she is and whom she’s attacked.

Fitz turns around, raising his arms, his body slightly hunched over. “I’m sorry,” he mutters, wide-eyed, taking a few small steps away from her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

The defensive posture brings Jemma back to the Playground, back to the workshop, back to how his LMD had cowered in front of her, trying to convince her that he was real and she wasn’t.

He wasn’t real this time either, but he wasn’t an LMD either. He hadn’t meant to harm her, and yet she had hurt him.

Tears start streaming down Jemma’s cheeks as she tries to hide her face behind trembling hands.

Through a curtain of tears and behind the quivering protective barrier she’s trying to build, she sees him take a step back towards the kitchen counter.

While keeping his eyes fixed on her, he pulls a dishtowel from a drawer, placing it flat on the counter. He keeps one hand raised in a calming gesture, while opening the ice compartment and placing a few ice cubes onto the towel.

“I… I’m not sure what to say, okay—” His voice is quiet and calm, as he wraps the towel into a small bundle. He takes a step closer and stretches out his free hand. “But… Could I… Could you give me your wrists, Jemma? Please.”

His eyes are pleading and gentle as he moves his hand even closer, carefully, slowly, never taking his eyes off her.

Jemma blinks away tears and nods barely noticeably. She reaches out her trembling hands, turning her wrists up.

A smile flashes across his face as he slips his free hand underneath her hands. Carefully he presses the bundle of ice against her wrists, applying enough pressure so that the cold moist sensation reaches her skin.

“It… it should help calm you down a little,” he says quietly, an encouraging smile playing on his lips.

Jemma closes her eyes, feeling more tears glide down her cheeks. There’s a subtle pain to the ice-cold, numbing sensation on her wrists, but at the same time she feels a sudden relief as the spinning in her head slowly subsides.

Jemma opens her eyes, still fighting back more tears, staring into his piercing blue eyes.

“I left him alone,” she sobs barely above a whisper. “I left him alone in the basement of that goddamn facility and took off trying to get AIDA with Agent Davis and I left him alone and they took him and switched him and… The last thing he said to me was ‘Be careful.’ I… I should have stayed with him!”

His eyes fall to where he’s pressing the icepack against her wrists, before gazing back at her. “Sounds to me like if you’d stayed with him, they would have taken you as well!”

Jemma tries to stop her chin from quivering. “Sometimes I wish they had.”

He lifts his head slightly. “No.” He stares at her with determination and Jemma notices him increasing the pressure on her hands and wrists, trying to get her to focus on him. “Don’t say that. ‘Cause… ‘cause then _who_ would rescue us, eh?” He shrugs, trying to force an encouraging smile.

“I know this… this must suck so badly.” He scoffs. “I mean, ‘suck’ doesn’t even _begin_ to cover what you’ve described, but… you… you and Daisy are their only hope… _my_ only hope. Don’t… don’t give up. Don’t wish—”

He stops, his eyes full of insecurity and uncertainty. “What do you need?” he asks. “What can I do?”

Jemma pulls her hands away from the icepack, raising them slightly, hesitantly. She reaches out for him, watching her hands shaking like leaves in a storm.

He puts the icepack down on the counter without breaking their eye contact and stretches out his arms, inviting her into his embrace.

Jemma throws her arms around his neck, pulling herself flush against him. She sobs uncontrollably against his shoulder, feeling the fabric of his shirt get soaked from her tears. “I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m sorry.”

“Sssshhhhh!” He holds her tight, stroking her hair, and for a moment Jemma feels as if the world around her is finally whole again.

“It’ll be okay.” His voice sounds warm and gentle, and she can feel his breath and the prickly ends of his stubble against her ear. “We’ll figure it out. Together. And your version of Radcliffe—whatever he’s up to—we’ll sort him out.”

Jemma laughs sadly, pulling her head back and wiping her cheeks dry.

“What?” There’s a smile playing on his lips and a curious sparkle in his eyes, as his hands provide gentle support for her elbows.

“You’ve told me that before.”

“Did I?” He raises his eyebrows.

Jemma nods. “There was this Inhuman. Hive. A truly _truly_ evil Inhuman, who enslaved Daisy and other Inhumans and I… I felt so helpless and you told me that we’ll sort him out.”

“And did we?” He grins mischievously.

A sad smile flashes across Jemma’s face. “Eventually. But we… we also lost a good friend in the process.”

His lips twitch nervously, seemingly unsure of how to respond.

Jemma swallows. “I’m sorry, I hurt you.”

Fitz lets out a quiet laugh and shakes his head. “No. No you didn't. I know I look a bit dainty but I can handle what you did just fine.”

He wets his lips. “I have his face and his voice. And the android had his face _and_ his voice _and_ his manners and it hurt you. You… you weren’t trying to hurt _me_. You thought it was… that _thing_.”

Jemma bites her lower lip as a new wave of tears rushes to the surface. “How could it hurt me like that? It had _his_ mind. How? How could he… how could it?” She shakes her head, trying to shake away the painful memories. “And how could I hurt _him_? How could I have _stabbed_ him and wished him _dead_ and _killed_ him?”

His eyes are soft and his voice is calm when he replies. “Because it _wasn’t_ him, Jemma. It wasn’t _him_ that hurt you and you didn’t hurt _him_. That was… that was the _machine_! And I can’t _imagine_ how hard it must be to keep that straight but that’s the truth.”

His hands rest on her arms, his thumbs gently gliding up and down. “I’ve known you for _hours_ , Jemma, and I don’t remember you, and I know it must hurt like _hell_ to hear me say that and I’m sorry for that, but even though I’ve only known your for _hours_ , I know, Jemma, I _know_ that I could _never_ hurt you. And I’m _him_. That thing wasn’t. That _thing_ was programmed and whatever hurt you, that was its programming. That wasn’t him or me that was that _thing_. And he… _I_ won’t blame you for what you did. You shouldn’t feel guilty. You have _no_ reason to!”

Jemma grimaces, chuckling sadly as her gaze drops to the floor.

“What now?” Fitz lowers his head slightly trying to catch her eyes.

Jemma looks back at him, lifting her shoulders briefly. “Hive. He… he was like a parasite and he used dead bodies as hosts, retaining the corpse’s memories—”

Fitz scrunches his nose. “The guy sounds disgusting.”

Jemma lets out a little laugh. “He sure was. But… well, he… he used someone as a host who was very important to me—” She looks to the ground, avoiding his eyes, forgetting for a moment that the man in front of her had no memories of Will.

She inhales slowly and looks back up. “And then later, Fitz killed Hive… or his host’s body, anyway, to try and stop him and he… he felt so guilty about it.” Jemma wrinkles her forehead. “Fitz thought that maybe there was something else he could have done and… and I told him that he _hadn’t_ killed Will, because Will was already dead when Hive took over his body. So… he had only killed that _thing_ and that it was the right thing to do.”

She shrugs, shaking her head slightly. “Not _once_ was I mad at him, not _once_ did I blame him for what he did, not _once_ did I feel like he had any _reason_ to blame himself or feel guilty for it.”

Fitz’s lips pull into a wide smile as he gently rubs Jemma’s arms. “Well, maybe you should take your own advice?”

Jemma chuckles. “Maybe.”

She sighs deeply. “I tried to kill Hive too… a different host though, but he… that host used Will’s memories, pretended to be him, talked like him to try and get to me… and I shot him.”

“You have a history of people taking over your boyfriends’ bodies and you having to kill them?” Fitz eyes widen in shock and he lets go of her arms. “God, I’m so sorry. I can’t believe I just said that. That was—”

Jemma chuckles sadly, shaking her head and rubbing her forehead. “No, you’re right. I suppose that’s true.”

Fitz presses his lips together. His nostrils flare up as he takes a deep breath. “Well, it ends now.” He nods with determination. “Once this is over, I… _we’ll_ make sure that it _never_ happens again. I promise you that!”

The corners of Jemma’s mouth quirk up into a sad smile. “You can’t promise that, Fitz… I mean, Leo.”

“I can try,” he replies quietly and the look in his eyes tells Jemma that he means every word.

She smiles shyly, unable to say anything in return.

Fitz clears his throat. “You did the right thing, Jemma. Then _and_ now. Neither of those two were actually the men you loved. It was self-defense! Those _things_ deserved what you did.”

Jemma feels her eyes glaze over behind a thin curtain of tears, her lips quivering nervously. “I don’t know how to make those images go away.” She pinches the bridge of her nose and swallows, hoping it will help steady her shaky voice. “Fitz’s… that _thing’s_ eyes, the blood, the look on his face… I feel like I’m going crazy.”

He reaches out one hand, gently squeezing her shoulder. “You’re _not_ crazy. You… You’ve been through more crazy shit in the last few weeks than a person should _ever_ have to go through in their entire _lifetime_! You’ll need _time_.”

He lifts his shoulders, looking deep into her eyes. “It’s been—what? Three weeks? And you’re still in the midst of it all. You haven’t had a _second_ to relax, have you?”

Jemma shakes her head silently.

“I mean… PTSD… that… that takes time and help and—” He stops, shrugging his shoulders ever so slightly as his thumb glides back and forth on her upper arm.

Jemma’s lips twitch briefly. “I know.” Her gaze falls to the floor as she blinks away more tears. “I’m just not sure I’m strong enough to go through that again.”

“Again?” His voice is barely above a whisper.

Jemma briefly lifts her eyes to meet his, nodding slightly, before looking back to the ground.

She feels his second hand on her other shoulder. “You _are_ strong enough to get through this, Jemma. I know. I _know_ you are.”

Jemma looks up, one corner of her mouth quirking up involuntarily. He can’t know and can’t be sure, but she wants to believe him, wants to believe that the man across from her knows her as well as Fitz does, knows her without knowing her at all.

There’s a shimmer of tears in his eyes and a sense of worry. “Promise me something?” he asks quietly.

“What?”

He takes a deep breath. “Promise me that when… **_when_** we get out of here you will ask him ... _me_... for _anything_ you need. If you need him to stay away, ask for it. If you need him close, ask for it.”

Jemma scoffs briefly, but he squeezes her shoulders a little tighter, bringing his face closer to hers. “This… this is going to be _your_ recovery so much more than his,” he tells her, with sincerity and determination in his tone. “Because, you’re right, Jemma, we _did_ get the better end of the deal.”

She chuckles sadly.

“Promise me?”

Jemma closes her eyes and nods. She opens them again when he lets go of her shoulders.

“Okay,” he mumbles, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. “I’ll… I’ll head back to Hunter. And I _promise_ that he and I will agree on some kind of verbal sparring match truce.”

Jemma chuckles quietly. “I’d greatly appreciate that.”

“Take your time. We’ll be best buds by the time you get back,” he jokes. “We still have a few more hours before we touch down.”

Jemma nods as he turns around to leave.

“Leo,” she calls out and he spins back, smiling at her with expectant eyes. “Thank you, Leo.”

He winks at her, one corner of his mouth quirking into a friendly grin. “Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with me and this "coda" fic that keeps exploding like the big bang or something ;)
> 
> I'm looking forward to the next chapter even though it may not do much to bring the plot forward (which will however happen in Chapter 10) it should have some nice Fitzsimmons and Fitzsimmons+Hunter moments. [I can't get enough of Hunter!] It'll be another opportunity to get to know Framework!Fitz a little better.


	9. The sun, it rises slowly as you walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I needed a slightly more fluffy/funny interlude. So, this is basically what happens when I think about what Fitz would do if he had money... or what *I* would do if *I* had money.

The doors of the private elevator open and Jemma is almost blinded by the bright white walls reflecting the sunlight streaming in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

The interior is elegantly sparse and modern. Everything sparkles in white and grey-silver. Leather, glass, and titanium-finish metal appear to be the prominent materials. A white leather seating area, a glass dining table with matt-silver finish, trapeze-shaped legs and stylish-yet-uncomfortable-looking white and metal chairs. White walls. Silver picture frames. Frosted glass sliding doors. Silver light fixtures.

“Is that… Is that—” Hunter pushes past Jemma, his arm stretched out as he stumbles like a child in a toy store toward the gigantic TV screen across from the white leather couch. “Is that… That’s an eighty-inch TV, isn’t it? That’s at _least_ eighty inches!”

“Umm, yes.” Fitz strolls leisurely into the room, his hands tucked into his pockets. He pulls one hand out to gesture at the TV. “I call her Bridget.”

“Of course you do,” Jemma mutters under her breath.

Fitz turns around to look at her. “What?”

“Nothing.” Jemma wrinkles her forehead. “It’s impressive.”

Fitz squints his eyes, but turns when Hunter speaks up.

“What’s the sound system like?” Excitedly, Hunter looks between Jemma and Fitz. “Can we… Can we test it? Can you play something?”

“Ummm.” Fitz is noticeably flustered. “Maybe later?” he suggests, glancing briefly in Jemma’s direction.

Fitz rubs his hands, turning nervously on his heels. “So. The guestrooms are down that hall.” He gestures at one of the frosted glass sliding doors. “Pete. My… my assistant got you some clothes and the bathrooms have toiletries and all that. Hunter, I thought you’re about my size, so that’s what I told Pete and… Jemma… well, I’m… I’m—” Her rubs his neck. “I’ve never been the type to buy clothes for his girlfriends but I hope I guessed your size correctly. I’m sure Pete picked out some nice pieces. He… he’s pretty good at that.”

Jemma notices the anxious tremor in his voice, realizing that even though this Fitz had plenty of confidence to spare, he clearly seemed to be struggling with the current situation… much like herself. She tries to conjure a reassuring smile. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Leo.”

The corners of his mouth quirk up ever so slightly. He opens his mouth, seemingly preparing to say something, when the sound of an automated sliding door lets him turn around.

“Master Leopold?” The voice sounds slightly mechanical.

Jemma’s mouth gapes ajar when the golden android shuffles around the corner, raising one hand as a greeting.

“It’s wonderful to see you. I hope you had a pleasant trip.” The voice is spot-on, a tad high-pitched, and quite posh and English. “I see you brought guests. How delightful.”

Hunter becomes animated once he appears to have overcome the initial shock. He raises his finger, pointing excitedly at the android. “C…C…. C-3PO? C-fucking-3PO? Are you serious? Did you… did you build that?”

He walks over to the robot, who leans back, seemingly anxious at the way Hunter eyeballs him up and down. “I beg your pardon?”

The robot turns his head to look at Fitz, who has his hands tucked in his pockets, staring at the floor, trying in vain to suppress a grin. “Master Leopold? Would it be terribly impolite to ask this person to stop standing in such close proximity to me?”

Fitz looks up, glancing at Jemma, who presses her lips together to stop from laughing. “He’s just excited, C.”

Hunter takes a few steps back. “This—” He points at C-3PO with both hands. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen in my life. Period! You can shut this virtual world down now, ‘cause I’ve already died and gone to heaven.”

Jemma shakes her head, chuckling quietly.

Fitz slides two fingers across his arm and seemingly enters a command on his tech implant. He waves his index finger at Hunter. “Wait ‘til you’ve seen—”

He stops when the sliding doors open again and the sound of small, motorized wheels like from a remote controlled toy car interrupt the scene.

Fitz’s mouth pulls into a wide grin, while Hunter’s eyes double in size as he speechlessly points at the small robot dog.

“You built a K-9?” Jemma steps closer and crouches down to take a closer look at the toy, whose satellite-dish-like ears spin in circles.

“Affirmative,” the artificial creature replies in the all-too-familiar robotic voice. “Master created me in the year 2000.”

“You… you tried to build one in your mum’s basement once. Almost burnt down the place.” Jemma chuckles, looking up at Fitz, who’s smiling proudly.

Fitz laughs out loud. “Well, here I built it under Holden’s supervision at his old lab.” He tilts his head. “Still almost burnt down the place, but… well, we hammered out the kinks eventually.”

Fitz looks away from Jemma, when Hunter slaps his hand on Fitz’s shoulder. “Mate, I’m about to drop on one knee and propose.”

Fitz turns his head to face Hunter, wrinkling his forehead. “Umm, yeah, that’s… umm—”

He looks back and forth between Hunter and Jemma, who’s still crouched down in front of K-9, absentmindedly petting the metal casing of the robot dog. “That’s flattering, Hunter, and _really_ hard to resist but I’ll…. I’m gonna go with no.” He pats Hunter’s hand on his shoulder, smiling awkwardly. “Thanks, but… no.”

Jemma does her best to suppress a giggle.

Hunter shrugs. “Your loss, mate! But at least promise me you’ll pick _me_ if you’re ever looking for a roommate? Please?”

Fitz tilts his head, furrowing his brows at Hunter. Then he inhales sharply. “Should we order some food? I’m kinda… well, I’m a bit peckish.”

“That sounds like an excellent plan,” Jemma chimes in.

“You’re just gonna ignore my roommate offer, aren’t you? Oh well. S’ppose I get that. Food sounds good.”

“Indian good? There’s this great Indian place I usually order from.”

“We… we used to order a lot of Indian food when we were at the Academy,” Jemma remarks quietly.

A smile flashes across Fitz’s face. “Oh yeah?”

“Indian sounds great,” Hunter chimes in, seemingly oblivious to his constant bad timing. “And I think, I’ll head for the shower and wash off this long and exhausting day while we wait for it to arrive. You know, for not being real, my stench is _pretty_ impressive.”

“Umm, yeah, sure.” Fitz turns on his heels, hands tucked into his pockets. “C-3PO, could you show Mister Hunter the way to his guestroom?”

“Absolutely, Master Leopold.” The golden robot wiggles excitedly and gestures towards the sliding door. “If you would follow me, Mister Hunter.”

A wide smile appears on Hunter’s face as he points with both hands at C-3PO, who’s already waddling towards the door. “This is the best thing ever. _Best_. _Thing_. _Ever_.”

Hunter starts to follow the android, but turns around one last time, gesturing at Fitz. “Make it spicy. I wanna breathe fire!”

“You got it.” Once the sliding door to the guest wing close behind Hunter and C-3PO, Fitz turns back to face Jemma.

She smiles shyly, looking around the living room and kitchen area, before gazing out of the tall windows, watching the ocean in the distance reflect the early evening sun.

“You don’t seem impressed.”

Jemma shifts her head towards Fitz, who slowly walks closer, hands still tucked into his pockets. He places his heel on the ground, pausing briefly, before rolling to the front, taking a barely noticeable break between each step.

Jemma scrunches her nose and shakes her head. “No. No.” She says the second _no_ in a much deeper voice.

Fitz knowingly raises his eyebrows and purses his lips. “Riiiiight.”

Jemma rolls her eyes and exhales sharply. “C-3PO and K-9… that’s… that’s really quite adorable… and the apartment… well it’s very… It’s quite… _large_ and white and—”

Fitz slowly nods his head, wrinkling his forehead in amusement with each of Jemma’s stammered words. He stops a few feet next to her, tapping the ground with the tip of his shoe, his eyes wandering to the floor. “I’m guessing it’s not exactly how we live in the real world.”

She laughs out loud. “We currently share a single, windowless room in a secret mostly-underground base.”

Fitz chuckles. “Sounds… quaint.”

Jemma slumps her shoulders in disappointment. “Don’t mock.”

Fitz raises his hands in defense. “I’m _not_. Really. I just—” He shrugs. “I still don’t quite know what to say about all of this.”

Jemma can’t help but smile. “I suppose that’s understandable.” She spins around, taking another look at the interior of the apartment, inhaling slowly. “Honestly, the apartment _is_ very impressive and I… I’m just waiting for the monkey to jump from the ceiling fan.” She gestures to the white rotor blades above the coffee table.

Fitz gazes up to where Jemma’s pointing, before turning his head to face her. “Monkey?”

The corners of Jemma’s mouth quirk up and she tips her head to one side. “Fitz has a _mildly_ obsessive fascination with monkeys.” She scoffs. “Tried to convince me to get one for the lab ever since we started working at Sci-Ops.”

Fitz raises his eyebrows. “A monkey? In a _lab_? That’s seriously inconvenient _and_ highly unsanitary.”

Jemma gestures at herself. “You’re telling _me_?”

He laughs and it’s too infectious not to join in.

Eventually, Jemma catches her breath, her eyes wandering around the room as her mind grows more serious again. “Do you like it?”

Fitz looks at her slightly confused. “The apartment?” He lifts his shoulders, tucking his hands back in his pockets. “Honestly, if it weren’t for Agnes… that’s… that’s Holden’s wife… this place would probably contain Bridget, my playstation and a mattress on the floor somewhere. I mainly wanted this place for the view.” He gestures out the glass window front with his head.

Jemma smiles briefly. “I meant. Your life? Being—?”

His eyes widen as he understands where she’s going with this. “Rich?”

He pauses. “Yes. I mean, it’s nice not having to worry about money and being able to afford everything you need or _want_ , and I think anyone who tells you otherwise is a fucking liar.”

Jemma chuckles briefly.

Fitz takes a step closer. “But there’s a difference between enjoying having money and thinking it’s necessary in order to be happy.”

He scoffs. “And yes, I know, easy for me to say ‘cause I _have_ the money, but—” He gestures towards the elevator doors. “I grew up in Glasgow and it… we lived a simple life. I mean, we weren’t poor or anything… not by a long shot.”

He gestures lively as he elaborates, and there’s the familiarity in the way he speaks that reminds Jemma that somewhere behind the programming and the virtually created persona was still a hint of the man she met at age sixteen.

“I always had food and clothes and… but, it was… it was _simple_ and I… I was happy. _So_ happy. And when I go home to Scotland to visit my mum and my dad and I sleep in my old room which my mum keeps unchanged like it’s a fucking shrine or something… well, I sleep better in that dinky room that’s half the size of my _toilet_ here than I’ve ever slept in this gigantic sterile white monstrosity.” He moves his arms around in circular motions above his head, before once again burying his hands in his pockets.

“So—” he continues quietly, his blue eyes gazing straight at her. “The prospect of living with you in a single windowless room in a secret base… it doesn’t scare me off, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

Jemma smiles shyly, noticing his lips twitching into the hint of a smile as well.

He wets his lips, gesturing towards the kitchen with his thumb. “I should order food.” He begins walking to the kitchen, swirling his finger in the air. “I’ll just order a bit of everything then everyone can find something they like.”

Jemma watches him pull out his phone, turning his back at her. She inhales slowly, and begins exploring the living room area, looking at the framed photographs and magazine covers all neatly lined up on the wall next to the entrance. Her hand carefully glides from frame to frame. She stops in front of the last picture. It’s the one with the Chilean girl. The frame looks a bit different than the others and the image hangs slightly crooked. A smile flashes across her face and she tilts her head.

“Food’s ordered. Should be here soon.”

She looks in the direction of his voice and sees him walking to where she’s standing.

“That was my favorite picture when I tried to research you after I came here,” Jemma says, pointing at the image.

He widens his eyes in surprise. “You found _that_? Fuck you’re thorough.”

Jemma chuckles briefly. “Yes, well, I excel at research and preparation.”

“I don’t doubt that for a second.” He gestures at the photograph. “It’s my favorite too. I put it up myself actually. I _swear_ Agnes looked like she wanted to strangle me when she saw it… Messing up her perfectly arranged gallery.”

He points at the girl. “She was so… she was so shy and scared. I mean, after everything she’d been through and then… then the artificial limb. I think she thought that people were scared of her, because of the prosthetic. She didn’t want to use it or show it to people. So I… well you can’t see it in the photograph really, but I’m actually showing her my implant and her… her eyes just lit up… like there was someone else who was weird like her and it was normal somehow and not scary and she… she was just so sweet and amazing and brave.”

Jemma gazes at him in amazement as he recounts the story, gesturing wildly, a constant smile playing on his lips.

“It was the only picture I found where your smile looked… genuine,” Jemma explains. “Where you actually looked happy.”

One corner of his mouth quirks up briefly. “‘Cause I was.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

He clears his throat, his eyes darting away from her like a skittish animal. “I’m sorry I’m not exactly what you expected, Jemma. I’m sorry I’m not… him.”

Jemma gasps, opening her mouth to reply, when the sliding doors to the guest wing open.

Hunter claps his hands together, walking out of the corridor, wearing jeans and a T-shirt. “Alright. I’m clean and starving. Food here yet?”

Fitz rubs the back of his neck. “Not quite, but soon.” He points towards the kitchen. “I got beer.”

Hunter grins happily. “Ah, mate, you really _do_ know the way to my heart, don’t you?”

Fitz smiles sheepishly before looking at Jemma. “Want one too?”

“Sure.”

Fitz walks to the kitchen, while Hunter steps closer to Jemma. “You doing alright, love?”

“I’m quite alright.” Jemma sighs. “Your timing is impeccable.”

“Is it now? Wonderful.”

Jemma scoffs realizing that Hunter had not noticed her intended use of sarcasm.

* * *

They spend dinner talking about their strategy for the next day, fake backstories for Jemma and Hunter in case anyone should ask. Jemma tells Fitz more about the real world, differences she’s encountered as well as similarities.

When everything seems settled, and Jemma begins feeling lightheaded from her third bottle of beer, she excuses herself to take a shower.

Jemma closes the door to her bedroom and calls Daisy on the encrypted line they’ve established.

“So, Ward’s been pestering me with questions about the shareholders meeting,” Daisy begins the conversation, skipping any kind of introduction. “For once I didn’t have to _fake_ a migraine to avoid lovey-dovey physical contact with my virtual nazi-boyfriend.” She pauses briefly, but not enough to let Jemma get a word in. “I managed to send an encrypted message to May and Coulson. No reply yet. How’s your day been with the British version of the Odd Couple?”

“I’m not sure that’s the most accurate description of Hunter and Leo’s relationship.”

“Leo, eh?”

“Well, he prefers it and I’d rather not burn any bridges right now.”

“Fair enough. So, back to my original question: how’s the day been?”

“Well, we hit a bit of a rough patch early on, but now… well… things are strange but not necessarily unpleasant.”

“Do I wanna know what that’s supposed to mean?”

“It means that Hunter has gone from being utterly paranoid by everything Leo says or does to openly pursuing a friendship with him instead.”

“So Hunter’s crushing on Fitz?”

Jemma chuckles. “Yes and I… I’ve had a chance to get a better idea of who Leopold Fitz is in the Framework.”

“And what’s the verdict?”

“It’s definitely not as bad as I thought.”

“Ummm…Simmons?”

It’s all Daisy says, but Jemma knows full well what plethora of questions hide behind the simple mention of her last name.

“We’ll be heading to the lab tomorrow to take a look and possibly retrieve the memory machine,” Jemma replies, rather than answering Daisy’s implied questions. “ _Now_ , I just desperately want to take a shower and hopefully catch a few hours of sleep before the night terrors wake me again.”

“Jemma?” Daisy says more quietly, her tone full of concern.

A smile flashes across Jemma’s face as she presses the phone against her ear. “I’m fine, Daisy. _Really_. Today… it’s been a lot to take in, but it meant progress… a lot of progress and for that I’m grateful and it gives me hope.” She sighs. “But I _am_ tired.”

Daisy scoffs on the other end. “Then get your shower and catch some zzzzs, Simmons.”

“Will do. Be safe, Daisy.”

“Fo-shizzle! Don’t worry about Ward. I can handle that little piece of scum! I’ll let you know if I hear anything from May and Coulson.”

“Good night, Daisy. It’s nice to know we’re at the very least in the same city.”

“Same here, Simmons. Same here.”

* * *

Jemma takes her time in the shower, allowing her mind to focus on the hot water running down her body, the smell of the flowery shampoo, the tickling sensation of each drop of water touching her face, the sound the stream of water makes when it pushes through each tiny hole in the shower head.

She turns the water off and pauses, listening for the change in sounds reaching her eardrums. She wrinkles her forehead in confusion and reaches for the towel next to the shower.

She dries off, puts her hair into a simple bun, and dresses in the yoga pants and tank top that she had found among the clothes on the bed.

She opens the door and, immediately, the noises from the living room become louder. She walks down the hallway and is momentarily taken aback when the sliding door opens and the music blares at full volume.

Her eyes widen when she sees Hunter and Fitz dancing to what appears to be a recording of a rock concert that’s playing on the huge TV screen and over the impressive sound system. Both have a bottle of beer in hand and are visibly intoxicated and seemingly oblivious to the fact that she’s come into the room. Jemma’s eyes wander to the coffee table, where there are several more empty bottles of beer and an open bottle of Scotch with two glasses.

_How long did I shower?_

For a few minutes, Jemma stares at the scene, wondering if she had descended from one virtual world into another.

“Jemma, love” Hunter exclaims, when he finally notices her. He walks over to Fitz and places one hand on his new best bud’s shoulder, who has also turned around to look at Jemma.

“I _absolutely_ think you should keep this guy,” Hunter announces, pointing at Fitz with the hand holding the beer. “He’s a riot! I can see why you fell in love with him.”

“Oh,” Jemma stammers. “Well. Fitz’s not—”

“What?” Fitz shrugs. “Fitz didn’t get shitfaced from time to time and rock out to U2 live from Slane Castle?” His speech is a bit slurred, but he seems a bit more steady on his feet than Hunter.

Jemma opens and closes her mouth a few times, unsure of how or even _if_ to reply. “W-well. He did get _drunk_ … Not often, but _yes_ , definitely, but—” She shrugs. “Well, I think the most I’ve ever seen Fitz—” She forms air quotes. “‘rock out’ was tapping his foot to a song.”

Hunter swings his arm around Fitz’s shoulders, pulling him closer. “Oh, love. Maybe… Maybe Leo here can bring that side of him back into the real world? ‘Cause, mate, don’t we all need a bit of carefreeness-ess sometimes?” He turns his head towards Fitz. “Is that a word?”

Fitz looks back at him. “Sounds like a word to me, mate!” He shifts to look at Jemma, gesturing at her with his beer bottle. “Did we… did we wake you?”

Jemma waves her hands in front of her body. “No. No, I just came out of the shower and well… it was hard to overhear … _this_.” She gestures at the TV screen, where the concert continues to play.

“You should join us, love!” Hunter announces. He lets go of Fitz, trying to straighten up but swaying dangerously side to side. “Put on your dance shoes. Leave your troubles behind. Go with the flow. Dance like nobody’s watching… well, just Leo and me here but let’s face it you probably look way better than us, love!”

Jemma lets out a quiet laugh. “Well, while the offer is _certainly_ tempting, I think that maybe—”

The music stops and the TV screen goes black.

Jemma looks at Fitz whose finger is resting on the tech implant in his forearm.

“Awwww…. mate!” Hunter slumps his shoulders.

Fitz shakes his head. “Nah, she’s right! Maybe we should call it a night. Big day tomorrow.”

Hunter gulps down the rest of his beer and places the bottle on the coffee table with a loud clank. He straightens up and throws one hand in the air. “Fine. Killjoys. Both of you.”

Hunter heads in a slightly crooked line towards the sliding door to the guest wing.

Jemma pinches the bridge of her nose, and turns in his direction. “Take some aspirin, Hunter. I need you to be at least _somewhat_ clear-headed tomorrow!”

“Yes, mum!” Hunter yells without turning around as the sliding door opens in front of him.

“There’s aspirin in the cabinet in the bathroom,” Fitz calls out.

Hunter’s voice is slightly muted as he disappears in the hallway. “Yes, dad!”

Jemma lets out a tired chuckle and massages her forehead.

“There’s some in your bathroom, too.” Fitz tone is warm and quiet.

Jemma turns around, smiling shyly. “I know. I… I already took some.”

He presses his lips together. “You…You’ll be okay? Sleeping-wise, I mean?” His eyes look at her full of concern. “On the plane you mentioned… you mentioned that every night—”

Jemma shrugs. “I’ll be fine.” She wishes she sounded more convincing.

He tucks his hands in his pockets and rolls back and forth on his feet. “Hey, can I… Could I show you something?” He gestures towards the other end of the apartment with his head.

Jemma sighs. “Could it wait until tomorrow?”

“It’s—” He takes a step closer, removing one hand from his pocket and gesturing nervously. “It won’t take but a minute. Please.”

Jemma inhales deeply. “Okay.”

A smile flashes across his face and he turns around, heading towards the sliding door to his private wing.

Jemma hesitates for a moment before following him.

He stops in front of one of the doors, pausing for a moment before opening it and walking inside, holding the door open for Jemma.

Jemma takes a step into the room, her heart beating faster when she notices that it’s his bedroom.

She laughs out loud when she sees a gigantic stuffed monkey on one side of the bed.

Fitz gestures at the toy. “May I introduce: Monkey. Yes, I know, incredibly innovative choice of name.”

Jemma’s still laughing. “He takes up half the bed.”

A wide smile appears on Fitz’s face. He nods. “Yes. Yes he does and he’s not allowed out when I… well, when I’m dating, but I’m _not_ dating, so… he’s very snuggly!”

He gestures at Jemma. “You… Do you want him for your room? You know, so that you’re not alone?” He runs his hands through his hair. “Fuck, I sound like an idiot.”

Jemma smiles. “No. It’s actually very sweet. But I… I couldn’t _possibly_ take your monkey from you.”

He chuckles quietly, before his expression grows more serious and he tucks his hands back in his pockets. “I just… I know you miss him. And that I’m not _him_. Not exactly anyway. But—” He shrugs. “You mentioned the—what did you call it? Mildly obsessive fascination with monkeys? And I… I thought maybe it’ll make you feel a bit better knowing that maybe… _maybe_ him and I still have some things in common.”

Jemma looks at him, the way he stands with his head hanging low, his hands protectively hidden in his trousers, his eyes avoiding her gaze. She smiles and her hand reaches out to touch his arm, causing him to lift his eyes barely enough to look at her.

“You and him have more things in common than you think, Leo.”

The corner of his mouth quirks up barely noticeably. He clears his throat and pulls his shoulders back. “Alright. That… that was all I wanted to show you.”

“Thank you.” Her thumb briefly glides back and forth on his arm before she pulls her hand back.

Jemma takes a step back, turning halfway to head out of the room.

Fitz lifts his index finger. “Oh, hey… hold on!” He wipes his fingers across his arm and types something on his implant.

“Leo. What—?”

Jemma turns her head when she hears the now familiar sound of a remote controlled robot dog rolling down the hallway.

“K-9, could you please go with Jemma and keep her company tonight and… you know, play her some relaxation exercises or… or nature sounds or something? You know, keep away the monsters under her bed.”

“Negative, Master. There are no monsters,” the choppy voice announces.

Jemma looks to the floor, trying to hide a smile.

Fitz rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know. It’s a figure of speech, K-9. Just… just keep her company, okay.”

“Affirmative, master. I will look after the mistress.”

Jemma looks up, tilting her head to the side. “Fitz… Leo… You, you don’t have to—”

“Hey. Why not?” Fitz lifts his shoulders, gesturing at K-9. “I mean, your own personal K-9 ni-night guard!” He lets out an embarrassed chuckle as he stumbles over the self-imposed tongue twister. “Fuck, I probably did have one too many.”

He clears his throat and looks back at Jemma. “Anyway… What’s… what do you have to lose? Worst-case scenario, you _still_ wake up from a nightmare. Best-case scenario, he _actually_ helps you sleep better?”

Jemma smiles. “Alright. Thank you.”

Fitz shrugs his shoulders, gesturing at the huge monkey in his bed. “Plus, this way I get to keep my snuggle-buddy.”

Jemma lets out a quiet laugh. “Good night, Leo.”

“Night, Jemma.”

* * *

* * *

Jemma gazes into the night, a shimmer of pink slowly rising on the horizon, her arms wrapped around herself.

She turns around when someone quietly clears his throat.

He’s wearing slacks and a light-blue button-up shirt with the top button undone. “Hope I didn’t startle you.”

Jemma shakes her head. “No. No you didn’t.”

He slowly walks closer, his hands—as usually—tucked into his pockets. “So… are you an early bird or did K-9 do a lousy job keeping the nightmares away?”

Jemma chuckles quietly. “Well, I _did_ sleep better, actually, but there were still dreams… bad dreams.”

“I’m sorry.”

Jemma shakes her head. “They weren’t quite _as_ bad, if that makes sense. … Plus, yes, I’m an early bird. Why are _you_ up and dressed already? Because Fitz isn’t exactly—”

“Yeah, no, I’m definitely, _definitely_ not an early bird.” His gaze falls to the floor and the tip of his shoes nervously taps against the ground. “But a little while ago, Agnes somehow managed to convince me to get a personal trainer—don’t laugh, please—and well, the bastard made me get up at the most ungodly hours to go running and to the gym and all that shit and—” He pauses. “I can hear you snickering, you know.”

He lifts his head, grinning sheepishly.

Jemma tries to get her giggling under control. “I’m sorry.”

He chuckles. “It’s fine. It’s really quite mockable if you ask me. Anyway, I _finally_ put my foot down and got rid of the guy and survived Agnes' deadly stares… and yet, months later, I _still_ wake up at these ungodly hours.”

Jemma lets out a single laugh. She wets her lips. “ _I_ always try to get Fitz to exercise more, eat healthier, get up early.”

Fitz looks at her with a fake expression of surprise. “Bloody hell, I must really love you if I put up with that,” he jokes.

Jemma laughs out loud. “Well, my success rate varies _greatly_.”

She turns and gazes out the window, where hues of pink now mix with first hints of yellow and orange, while the sun is still hiding below the horizon. “It’s a lovely view.”

“Yeah, I know.” His voice is quiet as if not to disrupt the serenity shining in through the window. “I think I mentioned yesterday… it’s the main reason I wanted this place. I know there’s a ton of light pollution here but… this place… you can get a decent view of the night sky and the stars and—” He gestures outside, “—the sunrise.”

Jemma looks at him, smiling widely.

Fitz lets out a single laugh.

“What?” Jemma asks confused.

He points at her. “You… you’re doing it again?”

“Doing what?”

“You… you probably don’t even realize it, but sometimes I’ll say something and then you get this smile on your face and it’s... it’s like _you_ know something that _I_ don’t.” He chuckles and shrugs his shoulders. “Which is probably _exactly_ what it is!”

Jemma feels the corners of her mouth pulling into an even wider smile. “We—” She clears her throat. “When we went to the Academy together, well, sometimes during winter break or summer break when we’d go home to visit our families… sometimes I’d visit you and your mum in Glasgow and sometimes you’d come to Sheffield. My parents… their house is a bit outside of the city actually and we often spent _hours_ outside stargazing, trying to see who could name more of the constellations, or who saw more shooting stars during meteor showers—”

Fitz grins. “Competitive? I _like_ it!”

Jemma chuckles. “And well, the sunrise… It’s—” She pauses, squinting her eyes. “About two years ago, I… I was pulled through a portal to a different planet.”

Fitz’s eyes double in size as he stares at her. “Are you kidd--? Fuck!”

Jemma scoffs. “Yes. And I… I couldn’t find a way back, ‘cause the portal, well, it wasn’t fixed to one spot, it moved and it was dependent on the moons of the planet, their degree of alignment and… well, I was there for… for six months and… There was no sun. I mean, I _eventually_ calculated that the sun would rise about every eighteen years for just a few minutes but while I was there, it was… it was dark.”

“Shit.”

Jemma chuckles at Fitz’s involuntary outburst. She inhales slowly. “When I came back to Earth… well, I—”

“—craved the sun,” Fitz finishes her sentence.

She smiles, looking at the horizon in the distance. “Yes. I loved watching the sunrise. I treasured it. I still do.” She shrugs. “Fitz keeps me company sometimes. We never really speak much then, but… he’s _there_ , watching it with me.”

“Sounds nice.”

Jemma nods silently, keeping her eyes on the blend of pink, yellow, orange, and blue in the sky.

“Hole in the universe,” Fitz mutters barely above a whisper.

Jemma looks at him, unsure if she heard correctly. “What?”

He bites his lower lip. “You told me that I dove through a hole in the universe for you.”

“Yes.” Jemma’s eyes wander to the floor.

“Did I? I mean—”

“Yes. You saved me. You brought me back.”

Fitz looks to the ground, and for a few minutes, silence settles in the room until he clears his throat.

“How about… how about I let you watch the sunrise and I’ll… I’ll make us some tea.” His eyes look shy and hesitant as he adds. “You drink tea?”

Jemma smiles. “I _am_ English.”

He chuckles and Jemma notices his body language relax. “English breakfast alright, then?”

She nods. “Most certainly.”

He turns around to head to the kitchen, squeezing her shoulder gently in passing. “Two sugar, splash of cream?”

“Yes,” Jemma replies somewhat surprised.

There’s a happy sparkle in his eyes. “I think I actually remembered that.”

A smile flashes across Jemma’s face as she watches him walks away and to the kitchen.

When he’s almost at the kitchen counter, he turns around. “Maybe I’ll make some pancakes too.”

Jemma raises her eyebrows. “You know how to make pancakes?”

Fitz shrugs. “My mum always said: ‘Leo no matter what you do with your life, make sure you know how to prepare at least one breakfast, one lunch, and one dinner.’”

Jemma laughs out loud. “That makes two worlds then.”

He smiles widely, pointing at her. “You know, it’s comforting to know that some things are the same here and there.”

Jemma shakes her head in amusement. “It’s funny. For Hunter it’s the other way around.”

Fitz’s expression turns more serious and he nods slightly. “He mentioned her last night… Bobbi, right?”

“Yes.” Jemma can’t hide a sad smile.

Fitz once again raises his index finger in Jemma’s direction, the corners of his mouth pulling into a smile, seemingly determined to change the subject back to something less somber. “Hey, you know, it’s even comforting to know that Hunter’s out there in the real world too. He’s starting to grow on me.”

Jemma chuckles briefly. “Well, Bobbi and him had to leave S.H.I.E.L.D. and we don’t—”

“—know where they are. I know. He told me.” Fitz shrugs. “Still. He’s out there. You never know. Things change.”

“They do.”

“Told you we’d be best buds!”

Jemma chuckles. “Yes, and now I’m starting to wonder if that’s gonna cause more trouble than good, having you two in cahoots.”

Fitz laughs out loud. “No worries.” He gestures over his shoulder with both thumbs. “I’ll get you your tea now.”

Jemma nods, before pulling her eyes away from him and towards the horizon where the first rays of sunshine appear above the glittering waves of the ocean.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea if it's possible to watch the sun rise over the ocean in L.A. (ocean being to the west and sun rising in the east and all that). In case anyone asks: The Darkhold makes it possible ;)
> 
> Thank you for all your comments. Leave more, they give me life! :)


	10. I will not hear what you have to say

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look, this chapter is "only" a bit over 3k. It's a miracle! :)

Fitz is bent forward, resting his forearms on the lab bench, gesturing at the tablet propped up on the smooth metal surface, while he explains the inner workings of his memory machine to Jemma.

She holds the intricate headpiece in her hands, turning it side to side, studying it, while paying attention to Fitz’s words. The design is reminiscent of the transcranial apparatus he designed for the Framework in the real world.

Once again, Jemma feels a sense of familiarity as they finish each other’s sentences, as he turns his head, looking up at her from where he’s hunched over the workbench, his eyes shining brightly as he smiles at her.

“I made some modifications after I tested The Recollector on my dad. Should have an even stronger effect now, but I haven’t had a chance to go back to Scotland yet to—”

“Ugh.” Jemma grimaces, trying to suppress a grin.

“What?” There’s a smile playing on his lips and Jemma tries to ignore the way it makes her stomach flip.

“I can’t believe you plan on calling it The Recollector!”

Fitz straightens up, pulling up his trousers. “What’s wrong with ‘The Recollector’? It helps _recollect_ memories.”

“Well, I just found another thing that’s the same _here_ and in the real world: You’re _terrible_ at naming things!” Jemma squints her eyes teasingly.

“Give me _one_ example!” Fitz leans closer, grinning playfully.

“Bridget!”

“That’s the best you can do?”

“In the real world, you wanted to call a tranquilizer weapon The Night-Night Gun!” She brings her face closer, accepting his invitation for a verbal sparring match.

Fitz shrugs. “Sounds like a perfectly good name to me.”

“Ugh!” Jemma rolls her eyes. “Oh, ‘Manus Magica 1.0’? What? Was ‘Roboarm’ taken?”

The corners of his mouth twitch and his eyes that are fixed on hers sparkle mischievously. Jemma can’t help but smile as she holds his gaze.

“Not to be a buzzkill, but I’d rather not watch you two snog, so give me a heads-up before you wipe that fancy contraption off the table and start doing the horizontal tango.”

Jemma’s head shoots around to where Hunter is leaning against the wall, his arms crossed in front of his chest. She had completely forgotten about the other Brit in the room, and judging by the way Fitz seems to be breathing a bit quicker, Hunter’s presence had slipped his mind as well.

Hunter grins widely. “Is that even sanitary in a lab like this?”

Jemma scoffs. “Hunt—”

She stops the scolding lecture she’s about to start against Hunter, when the large double-doors to the lab open.

Jemma’s heart rate shoots up when she sees Radcliffe. She takes a deep breath, reminding herself that he was nothing but an avatar version of the Scottish scientist who had abducted Fitz and her friends.

“Leopold?” Radcliffe remarks surprised. “What brings _you_ to the lab so early? There I thought I’d have the place to myself to work on my new ocular implant. And who’s your lovely company?” he adds when he catches sight of Jemma.

Radcliffe does a double-take when he notices Hunter, who’s waving his hand, a fake grin adorning his face.

Jemma glances at Fitz whose body language seems tense and nervous. “Holden. Umm.”

He walks around the workbench, approaching Radcliffe, while gesturing at Jemma. “This is Doctor Simmons. She’s a neuroscientist, specializing in memory research, particular focus on Alzheimer’s. I contacted her a few weeks back to see if she could help me with the fine-tuning for The Recollector. Must have forgotten to mention it to you.”

Radcliffe shifts his focus from Fitz to Jemma, smiling widely. “Oh, well!” He walks up to her stretching out his hand and shaking hers firmly, covering it with his second hand. “It’s wonderful meeting you, Jemma.”

Jemma’s eyes widen in surprise, but Radcliffe continues, still holding her hand in his palms. “I know that The Recollector is a project very dear to Leopold’s heart. You must be _quite_ a luminary if Leo’s getting you involved.”

Jemma’s eyes dart in Fitz’s direction. She notices his nostrils flare up before he takes a step forward, pressing his forearm against Radcliffe’s throat and pushing the surprised scientist backwards until his back hits the wall. He places his free hand against Radcliffe’s shoulder to keep him in place.

“Son of a bitch!” Fitz’s eyes angrily glare at Radcliffe, who tries in vain to grab hold of Fitz’s arm and free himself.

“Leopold?” Radcliffe mutters in shock as he struggles against Fitz’s force.

“Mate!” Hunter and Jemma rush over to them.

“Leo!” Jemma exclaims, placing her hand on Fitz’s arm, trying to get him to let go.

Fitz removes his hand from Radcliffe’s shoulder and points at him in fury. “He knows. He fucking knows!”

Jemma places her second hand on Fitz’s upper arm, trying to bring her face between Fitz and Radcliffe, trying to get him to focus on _her_. “Yes, I know, Leo, but I don’t think attacking him is going to be particularly helpful.”

Fitz jerks away his hands and takes a step back. He’s breathing heavily, looking at Jemma, his eyes slowly losing some of the angry fire.

“Leopold, what’s going on?” Radcliffe mumbles, rubbing his throat.

Fitz’s head and index finger shoot in Radcliffe’s direction. “I hadn’t told you her first name. You _know_!” He throws both arms in the air. “You bloody _know_ that all of this isn’t real. You’re from the real world too!”

Radcliffe’s face seems to be drained of all color. “Leo. I—”

“Shouldn’t it be _Fitz_?” Fitz growls through his teeth, squinting his eyes.

“Where are their bodies?” Jemma takes a step closer, pushing herself protectively between Fitz and Radcliffe, while Hunter stands to one side, his eyes nervously darting between the other three people in the room.

Radcliffe looks at her. “I can’t tell you that, Jemma.”

Jemma clenches her jaw. “Tell us where their bodies are!” She hears her own voice, dark, full of determination, and strangely unfamiliar.

Radcliffe shrugs, beginning to gesture wildly. “I can’t. You’ll shut it down.” He shakes his head. “I…I’d stop existing. AIDA, she… she was… _is_ … programmed to protect the Framework and to protect my life above all others, but she thought I’d be the greatest risk to the Framework, so she killed my body but put my _mind_ in here, thinking she’d give me a better life, while simultaneously protecting the Framework. If you shut the Framework down, I… I die in both worlds.”

Jemma scoffs and turns around, unable to look at Radcliffe.

“Are you _seriously_ expecting us to feel _pity_ for you because your murderous android turned on you?” Fitz asks.

“What about Agnes?” Radcliffe tries to argue and Jemma forces herself to turn back around, positioning herself next to Fitz, who’s taken a step closer to his now-estranged father figure.

“Agnes’ mind is here as well,” Radcliffe continues. “She… she was dying of a brain tumor. She… she trusted me with her life, Leo, with her _mind_. She’ll stop existing. I can’t tell you where your bodies are being held. I can’t let you shut down the Framework. I love her too much. Leo… And I love _you_ too much! I did all of this to protect the people I love, that I care about. I was trying to offer them a better world, offer _you_ a better world!”

Jemma glares at Radcliffe in disbelief. She flinches, when Fitz’s fist slams against Radcliffe’s nose.

Hunter immediately pulls back Fitz’s arm, while Jemma watches blood seep through Radcliffe’s fingers as he holds both hands in front of his broken nose, grunting in pain.

Fitz tries to free himself from Hunter’s grasp. “ _Better world?_ ” he screams, leaning as far forward as Hunter’s arms allow him. “For _years_ you’ve told me that I’d find my one true love, like you’d found Agnes. That she was _out there_. That I should keep looking. And all this time you _knew_!”

He shakes off Hunters arms, pointing at Jemma, while his eyes are fixed on Radcliffe, who’s staring at him with scared eyes, his nose still dripping blood. “You _knew_ that I had already found her… _years_ ago!”

Fitz gestures at himself, tears in his eyes. “ _You_ took her from me. You took _me_ from _her_!”

He stabs his index finger into Radcliffe’s chest. “ _Don’t_ bring up Agnes as an excuse. Don’t you _dare_!”

“Well, the plan was to bring Jemma in here _with_ you.” Radcliffe shrugs apologetically. “So you could be _together_. Live a happy life. A _comfortable_ life. A _safe_ life!” He turns his head, his eyes wandering around the lab. “I mean, look at what we’ve… what _you’ve_ achieved, Leopold!”

Fitz lets out a single sarcastic laugh. “Oh, oh, how _lovely_ , so your plan was to deprive _all_ of us of our real lives, ‘cause you thought your little Hydra-infested version of a world was better? _Fuck you_ , Holden!” He throws one hand in the air, and turns around, placing his hands on his hips, his chest heaving up and down.

“Well, Hydra’s world dominance wasn’t exactly _my_ idea.” Radcliffe gestures at himself with both hands and Jemma squints her eyes in anger, anticipating his next ridiculous attempt at an excuse. “AIDA… she… she’s taken certain _liberties_ in her design of the Framework. But all-in-all, I really don’t think it’s so bad here.”

Fitz shoots around, but before he can step closer, Jemma feels her hands clench. Like in slow motion she watches her fist propel forward until it rams against Radcliffe’s nose.

“Hey hey hey!” Hunter puts himself between them and Radcliffe, stretching one hand backwards towards Holden and one forward to keep Fitz and Jemma at bay. “Seriously, guys, keep your shit together.” He gestures at himself. “‘Cause when the world gets to a point where _I’m_ the most levelheaded person in the room, we’re in _serious_ trouble!!”

“Well, I’d say _I’ve_ been acting rather levelheaded as well,” Radcliffe pipes up.

Hunter slowly turns his head to face the Scot. “You _really_ think being a smartass is beneficial in your current situation, mate?”

Instead of paying heed to Hunter’s comment, Radcliffe leans forward. “Leopold… Leo. Just… Don’t think of _me…_ or Agnes… think about your _parents_! Your mum, your dad! Think about your friends. If they shut this down, _all_ of this will disappear. Do these people deserve that? They think they’re real. They’re living their lives. They’re—”

Fitz’s nostrils flare up. “Shut up!”

“Leopold,” Radcliffe pleads.

“I said, _shut up_ ,” Fitz growls, pointing at Radcliffe. He’s breathing heavily, then turns his head towards Hunter. “Keep an eye on him.”

Fitz takes a step back and turns to look at Jemma. “Come with me.”

Jemma’s mind begins racing, trying to figure out what’s going on in Fitz’s head.

“Now might not be the best time to get frisky, mate.”

Fitz glares back at Hunter, his index once again pointing in Radcliffe’s direction. “Keep. An eye. On him!”

Hunter shrugs, raising his hands in resignation.

Fitz grabs Jemma by the hand and pulls her into a separate room.

* * *

Fitz closes the door and walks past Jemma. He keeps his back turned to her, rubbing his neck.

Jemma hears her own heart hammering in her chest as she anxiously waits for him to say something.

“Why do we need to shut it down?” Fitz turns around, waving one hand to the side, while placing the other on his hip.

Jemma slumps her shoulders. “Leo. It’s—”

He takes a few steps closer to her, both hands slightly raised and gesturing towards her. “No… No, I get it. I _get_ that we need to rescue our people. I _get_ that we need to make sure that nobody is put into the Framework against their will _ever_ again. I _get_ that AIDA needs to be stopped and destroyed. I get _all_ of that.”

He pauses, taking a few deep breaths. “But why do we need to shut it down? Why not just destroy the _hardware_ and let the program run?” He lifts his shoulders, gesturing towards the closed door. “He’s… he’s not wrong. Why force these people to stop existing?”

“They _don’t_ exist, Leo!”

He continues gesturing at the door. “They don’t _know_ that!”

He shrugs, his hands trying to articulate his thoughts. “Maybe it’s not _your_ reality. Maybe it’s not _real_.” He gestures at himself. “But it’s real to _me_. My mum, my dad, your friends, Trip? You said he was dead in your world. And… and your Director… Foot or whatever her name was. You wanna kill them _again_?”

“Hand,” Jemma whispers quietly. “Her name is Hand.” Her gaze drops to the floor, but she notices that he steps closer.

She looks back up when she feels his hands on her shoulders. “I know this world isn’t real, Jemma and I know it’s not perfect, but give the people here a chance. Give them a chance to fix their world like we’ve been trying to fix ours, like we’ve _managed_ to fix ours, to at least make it _better_. Give them a chance to fight Hydra. Trip and Hand? They’re dead in the real world, but _here…_ here they’re fighting! They’re fighting Hydra! They deserve a chance!”

Jemma presses her lips into a thin line, her mind racing with conflicting thoughts.

He squeezes her shoulders gently, his blue eyes pleading with her. “And my mum and dad? I _know_ my dad was a scumbag in the real world who left when I was a kid. But _here_? Here I _have_ a dad, a dad I _love_ and who loves _me_. He _deserves_ to live! _They_ deserve to live—even if they’re nothing but programmed. They’re _real_ to me, Jemma!”

His eyes shimmer behind a thin curtain of tears, and Jemma feels her chin quiver as she struggles to fight back tears herself.

“Give me a reason, Jemma… give me _one_ good reason why we can’t just let the program run once we’re out?” He shrugs. “It seems to have the processing power it needs. Why not? _Why?_ ”

Jemma bites her lower lips and quickly wipes away the lonely tear running down her cheek. “I can’t make that decision alone, Leo,” she says barely above a whisper. “Even if _I_ say we’ll leave it running, _S.H.I.E.L.D._ may decide to shut it down instead.”

Fitz shrugs. “Yeah well, maybe that’ll be good enough for _him_. Maybe telling _Holden_ that he can live his life here will be good enough for him to tell us where our bodies are and let us go.”

Jemma smiles weakly and nods.

* * *

“Keep it running?” Hunter’s eyes double in size. “Don’t get me wrong. I’m certainly not complaining about the fact that I might get to keep my fake little existence and all that, but… are you serious?”

“Yes.” Jemma turns to face Radcliffe, who managed to clean up his bloody nose while Fitz and Jemma had talked in the other room. “So, now that you don’t have to fear vanishing from existence anymore, how about you tell us where they’re being held?”

Radcliffe’s eyes nervously dart from person to person. “I… I still don’t quite know—”

Fitz takes a step closer, glaring into Radcliffe’s eyes. “From the sounds of it, you betrayed me in _this_ world _and_ the other. You say you care about me? _Love_ me? That I’m like a _son_ to you? _Prove it_ , Holden! Do the right thing for _once_ in your life and tell us where the bodies are being held!”

Radcliffe nervously pulls up his trousers, his eyes wandering from Fitz to Jemma. “They’re still at the base in Krasnoyarsk Krai.”

Jemma’s mouth gapes ajar.

Radcliffe shrugs. “The submarine _pretended_ to leave to set you on a false trail. AIDA correctly predicted that the authority of Coulson’s LMD would be enough to get you to leave without inspecting the base any further.”

Jemma clenches her jaw. Her muscles tighten until they begin to tremble with anger.

She relaxes when she feels Fitz’s hand on her shoulder, his thumb drawing calming circles. She turns her head slightly to look into his calm blue eyes instead of Radcliffe.

“Alright,” Hunter’s voice chimes in, making Jemma look at him. He raises one hand like a kid in school. “Now that that’s settled, I got a couple of questions… you know… out of curiosity.”

Jemma exhales sharply. “Yes?”

“First of all: What exactly happens when people log _out_ of our lovely virtual wannabe-paradise? I mean, with their avatars?”

Jemma looks at Radcliffe, who shrugs nervously. “Well… well, I don’t know for _sure_ , obviously, since once I logged out of my avatar, I can’t tell anymore what he’s up to, but… _theoretically…_ the avatar _should_ continue based on the data it has been provided with, that is, real-world memories as well as any memories made while in the Framework.”

“Alright, alright.” Hunter nods, pushing his lower lip slightly forward. “That’s… nice, ‘cause I’d hate to lose you two once you ascend to Hydra-free-heaven.” He alternates between pointing at Jemma and Fitz and Jemma can’t help but smile briefly.

“What’s the second question?” she asks.

“Now that you know where the hostages are being held, are you still planning on using Leo’s memory machine to restore their memories from the real world?”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Fitz shrugs his shoulders in confusion.

“Well, both the genius scientist who got himself killed by his android—” Hunter points at Radcliffe, before directing his index finger towards Jemma. “ _And_ our lovely English rose over here had their covers blown pretty quickly by slipping up and/or acting in a way that did not fit in with _this_ reality.”

Hunter shrugs. “If you use the memory machine on the hostages _now_ , when—I assume—Simmons and Johnson will _first_ have to return to the real world, get to Krutchny Crayon or whatever that place was called, make sure dear doctor here told the truth, and presumably overcome some protective minions he and his killerbot have installed… _before_ the hostages’ bodies can be awoken from their peaceful slumber… Well, I’d be afraid the hostages in the Framework might slip up and blow their own cover. Since you wanna keep the Framework running, you might not wanna risk that. Just think of what happens in _The Truman Show_! One fallen spotlight, one little glitch in the program and everything could end in chaos!”

Fitz squints his eyes. “Bit dramatic, don’t you think?”

Jemma sighs. “He has a point, Leo. We _know_ the location now, so we _could_ wait to restore everyone’s memories until just before everyone logs out… if that. At the _very_ least, we should run our new intel by Hand first. She _did_ insist that any and all actions regarding this rescue mission would have to be approved by her.”

“Well, if you’re worried about someone slipping up, then I think he’s your biggest threat.” Fitz tilts his head in Radcliffe’s direction.

“What do you suggest?” Jemma asks.

Fitz looks at Hunter, pulling his lips into a forced grin. “How would you like being the new bodyguard of Doctor Holden Radcliffe, CEO of RadFitz Technologies?”

“Leopold, I assure you that won’t be—” Radcliffe immediately stops talking when Jemma and Fitz glare at him disapprovingly.

“His place as darling as your pad?” Hunter inquires, his eyes sparkling mischievously.

Fitz shrugs. “Won’t have C-3PO and K-9, but it does have a pool.”

Hunter pushes his lower lip forward. “I love me a good poolside cocktail.” He turns his head towards Radcliffe, grinning widely. “Looks like you got yourself a new bodyguard, Doctor. Just know that I won’t be pulling any Kevin Costner stunts. Our relationship will remain _purely_ professional. You’ll have to keep your hands to yourself, as difficult as that may be!”

A nervous smile flashes across Radcliffe’s face, but he doesn’t dare object.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd love to hear what you think of this ever expanding monstrosity I once called a "coda" fic :)


	11. I will change my ways

A smile flashes across Jemma’s face when Daisy steps out of the private elevator. She takes a few steps closer and pulls Daisy into a hug.

“Daisy.” Saying her friend’s name feels like a sigh of relief.

Daisy breaks their hug, smiling widely. “We saw each other like thirty-six hours ago, Simmons! Don’t get clingy.”

Jemma rolls her eyes and shakes her head in amusement.

Daisy’s eyes wander to C-3PO and K-9 who are parked—both in sleep-mode—against the wall. “So _this_ is how a rich nerd lives?”

Jemma chuckles briefly and gestures with her head to the TV screen. “Don’t forget Bridget!”

Daisy raises her eyebrows. “What is it with guys and their need for gigantic electronics?”

“You’re asking the wrong person.”

Daisy looks around the living room. “Speaking of rich nerds: where is he?”

“Bathroom.”

“So, even the rich and famous need to tinkle. I’ve always wondered.”

* * *

They’re sitting at Leo’s dinner table, various Chinese take-out food containers spread out between them.

Daisy has one foot on her chair. She leans forward, grabs a spring roll and dunks it into the sweet-and-sour sauce. “May’s on board with putting the memory machine on the backburner, although she’s made it _very_ clear that even with two sets of memories she wouldn’t fuck up her cover, ‘cause she’s Melinda-fucking-May.”

She takes a bite and continues while chewing her food. “Coulson is basically on board with whatever his wife says and let me tell ‘ya, it’s fucking hilarious to see those two together!”

Jemma takes a sip from her beer. “Hand reports that Mace wants his memories restored asap. And Mack? Well, he’s still the big question mark in the mix.”

Daisy nods, pressing her lips into a thin line. She sighs in frustration.

“At least we have the location now.” Jemma shrugs, wishing she’d sound more optimistic. “And Hunter’s gonna ensure that Radcliffe plays on _our_ side from here on out.”

Leo puts down his beer bottle. “And if things are as Holden says and the avatars retain their memories once someone logs out, then I can _guarantee_ you that my avatar will keep a close eye on Radcliffe as well. He owes me! And he knows it. Feel like I might insist on a bit more control over our company and who benefits from our products, too. Sure as hell won’t be Hydra. I can’t revoke the merger with Quinn, but maybe it’ll allow S.H.I.E.L.D. to spy on the guy via RadFitz Technologies.”

Jemma looks down, trying to hide a proud grin over the way Leo talks as if he’d been a spy all his life.

Daisy grabs her beer and takes a sip. “Still not quite sure how I feel about the idea of keeping this virtual shithole running.”

Leo’s eyes grow darker, but his voice is calm when he replies. “It wasn’t always a shithole and I’d like to give people here a chance to make sure it won’t continue to be.”

Jemma turns her head to look at Daisy. “Leo is right. If we destroy the hardware and ensure that nobody can log in or— more importantly—be _forced_ to log in, then letting the program run its course is basically like letting a TV show run in the background. No one in the real world gets hurts. Everybody wins... in a sense.”

Daisy raises her hands in defense. “Hey, I already said, I’ll support the decision. Doesn’t mean that it can’t creep me out a bit.”

Leo leans back in his chair. “So, the next step is that you two need to get to the backdoor that you’ve programmed for yourselves, correct? Log out. Let your people know where the bodies are being held and give them time to get to Russia.”

Jemma nods. “Exactly. But, _unfortunately_ , we programmed the backdoor in an apartment that in _this_ world is occupied.”

Leo shrugs. “Why would you program it in some random apartment in the first place? Why not at your base or something?”

Daisy rolls her eyes. “Dude. A) We were in a _bit_ of a hurry after our base had just been overrun and half-destroyed by killer robots and our friends had been kidnapped and all that shit. Admittedly, _maybe_ we didn’t think _everything_ all the way through. And B) The apartment was—”

“The apartment was one that Daisy got for us… for Fitz and me. Nobody was living there in the real world, because we hadn’t had a chance to move in yet. Fitz hadn’t even _seen_ it yet.”

Jemma takes a deep breath when she feels sadness and tears working their way to the surface. “Daisy and I entered the Framework, _assuming_ it would be an exact replica of the real world. Since we couldn’t be _sure_ whether our base was safe or not, we decided to program the backdoor in a _remote_ location, and we didn’t want a public spot. The apartment seemed like a good choice at the time.”

Jemma shrugs. “Like Daisy said, maybe we didn’t think _everything_ all the way through.”

Leo nods. “Alright. So, you need to get to the backdoor, but the apartment is occupied.”

Daisy slumps her shoulders. “As we’ve already said: exactly.”

Leo lifts his beer bottle in Daisy’s direction. “You’re a hacker, right?”

“Yeah, so?” Daisy shrugs.

“Can you get me the names of the tenants? Some background info? Employer. Marital status. That kinda stuff.”

Daisy looks in confusion at Jemma, who shrugs her shoulders in bewilderment.

“Whatcha gonna do?” Daisy asks, squinting her eyes in Leo’s direction. “Cross them off?”

Leo’s body language tenses and his eyes double in size. “What the fuck?” He gestures at himself. “Do I really strike you as someone who crosses off people in his way?”

Daisy shrugs. “What do _I_ know? You might be thinking ‘Well, they’re not _real_ people.””

Leo’s mouth gapes open as he struggles for words. “I… _I’m_ the one who _begged_ you guys not to shut this world down and let the people here live their lives?”

Daisy raises her hands. “ _Alright_. Alright. I’ll look them up.”

Leo leans back, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Thank you.”

“What do you plan on doing with this information?” Jemma asks curiously.

Leo lifts his shoulders barely noticeably. “Not sure yet. But I have an idea.”

Daisy takes one big gulp from her beer and puts the empty bottle on the table. “Alright. So, before I head back to my lovesick nazi puppy and try to come up with _another_ excuse for once again heading to D.C., I wanted to ask a _possibly_ insane question.”

Jemma squints her eyes. “Daisy?”

Daisy gestures at Jemma with one hand. “Hear me out, Simmons.”

Jemma exhales sharply and leans back. “Very well.”

“So, Radcliffe has all his real-life memories, correct?” Daisy looks from Jemma to Leo and back.

“Yes,” Jemma confirms.

“And this guy here—” Daisy gestures at Leo with her head. “He’s a pretty decent engineer, right?”

Leo leans forward in his chair. “Pretty dec—? What the—?” Leo’s eyes dart between Daisy and Jemma. “Wh-where do you get off?”

“Leo. She’s teasing you.”

“Umm, yeah, but—” Still noticeably flustered, Leo gestures at Daisy, while keeping his focus on Jemma. “Pretty decent??”

“Leo,” Jemma pleads, and Leo falls silent, leaning back and crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Jemma turns her head towards Daisy. “You were saying?”

“Well, I’m sure you won’t like the idea, but _maybe_ pretty decent engineer over here and crazy Scottish ass currently under Hunter’s supervision could build me my own personal LMD so I can sneak away from Ward, leave him a little sexbot present, and return later with fresh energy not to slit is fucking throat.”

Leo raises his eyebrows in shock. “An LMD? Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re talking about the things that took over your base and tried to _kill_ you. And…and AIDA, or Queen Mother or whatever the fuck she’s called _killed_ Holden? _That’s_ what you’re talking about? That’s what you want me to _build_?”

Daisy shrugs. “Well, not the insane killerbot version, but the _decoy_ version, the one _you_ had originally intended to build before Radcliffe lost a few more of his marbles and the idea went down the deep end.”

“The version _I_ intended? I… The LMDs were _my_ idea?” Leo looks at Jemma, his face suddenly ashen.

Jemma shakes her head. “No. _Radcliffe_ built AIDA’s prototype. But he asked for Fitz’s help in perfecting the design, telling Fitz that the LMDs were intended as a _decoy_ to put themselves in harm’s way and protect the lives of agents and innocent people. _That’s_ what Fitz worked on. He had _no_ intention of using them as a weapon and he did his _best_ to ensure they couldn’t be used as such. It was _Radcliffe_ who corrupted the program.”

Leo’s gaze wanders to the ground. He nods ever so slightly, but the way he avoids her eyes is enough to tell Jemma that what she had said was not enough to eliminate the guilt he’s feeling.

“May might like one too,” Daisy pipes up. “Or Coulson. You guys said it yourselves: we _can’t_ blow our covers, _especially_ not if we want to keep this world running once we log out. LMDs might come in handy. Just sayin’.”

“I’m not sure Holden will want to help us,” Leo tries to interject, his eyes still fixed on the table.

Daisy leans forward, angrily tapping the table top with her index finger. “Then _make_ him! Like you said: he _owes_ you and he fucking better start embracing his inner resistance warrior, ‘cause—fuck it—he’s gonna make amends until the fucking battery for this place runs out!”

Leo leans back and his eyes widen in surprise. “Geez, and I thought _I_ swore a lot.”

Jemma tries to suppress a grin. She’s relieved when she notices that her reaction conjures the hint of a smile on Leo’s lips.

“So whaddya say?” Daisy asks, her eyes expectantly wandering between Leo and Jemma.

Leo shrugs. “I’ll call Holden right away. You got enough stamina for an all-nighter at the lab, ‘cause I assume we’ll need you as a model—” He points at Daisy then shifts his hand in Jemma’s direction. “And you for moral support and scientific expertise.”

“I’ve got stamina up the wazoo! Thanks Dude.”

* * *

* * *

They head to D.C. two days later, with Daisy’s LMD having taken over her Hydra duties, May and Coulson on standby, and Hunter keeping his eyes on Radcliffe, who seemed to have accepted pretty quickly that he was to play nice from here on out or risk having the plug pulled on the Framework after all.

Hunter had told Agnes that Leo and Holden had received death threats from some fanatic resistance group who weren’t happy about the merger with Quinn Worldwide. The lie had been enough for Agnes to gladly accept Hunter’s 24/7 watch over Radcliffe. Hunter had assured her that Leo had a highly-trained security guard with him at all times as well.

* * *

Daisy looks at Leo, who is sitting across from her in his limo. “Dude, shouldn’t you be wearing some kind of disguise? Like, lose the suit and try a baseball cap or something? Your face’s been on every second magazine cover thanks to the merger. If people didn’t already know what you look like, they probably do now!”

“I’m counting on it,” Leo says confidently and gets out of the car. He straightens his jacket and stretches out his hand to help first Jemma and then Daisy out of the car.

Daisy gestures up and down in front of Leo. “This whole chivalry thing is seriously weird!”

Leo squints his eyes. “Are you telling me that Fitz is a discourteous ass?”

Daisy puts on her best _d’uh_ face. “No, he’s not discourteous. He’s just not hold-the-door-open-courteous. And who the hell uses words like ‘discourteous’?”

“Actually, Fitz has held the door open for me plenty of times,” Jemma chimes in, and Leo triumphantly gestures at Jemma as if her comment had just given him the victory in their little verbal sparring match.

“Umm, yeah.” Daisy puts her hands on her hips. “I think that’s a bit different, Jemma, seeing that you and Fitz are… you know… sleeping together.”

Jemma stares at Daisy, trying to stop her cheeks from flushing. “I’ll have you know, Daisy, that even before Fitz and I dated, he was always—”

“You know for someone who was worried about me drawing attention not thirty seconds ago, you’re spending an awful lot of time debating useless topics in public,” Leo interrupts them.

He clicks his tongue. “Shall we?”

Leo takes a deep breath and heads towards the front door of the apartment complex.

“Dude you can’t just—” Daisy tries to chime in. She shuts up when the doorman immediately opens the door as soon as Leo approaches, politely nodding his head as a welcome.

“Apparently he can,” Daisy mutters bewildered and follows Leo and Jemma.

* * *

The three of them stand in front of the apartment’s door. “Now what, Mr. Fancy-Pants?”

Leo turns his head, glaring at Daisy in frustration. “Could you stop with the nicknames and shut up for a second? I have a plan.”

“Alright, alright. Go right ahead Mr. Bigshot!”

Leo exhales sharply and knocks on the door. It takes a moment, but then a young woman with blond straight hair opens.

Her eyes widen and her mouth gapes slightly ajar when she sees Leo.

Leo puts on a wide smile. “Hello. Mindy, isn’t it? My name is—”

“You… you… you’re Leopold Fitz. You’re… _Leopold Fitz_. Oh. My. God.” The woman turns her head back into the apartment, seemingly looking for someone else, before her head darts back in Leo’s direction.

Leo continues to smile politely. “Yes. Yes, I am.”

“Is this—” Mindy pokes her head past Leo and into the hallway. Curiously she looks at Jemma and Daisy. She straightens back up. “Is this some kind of TV show? Am I being punked?” She turns her head back. “Steve! Steeeeve!”

“Well, Mindy,” Leo tries to get the woman’s attention, whose husband appears from the back and steps to the door, looking slightly more confused than his enthusiastic wife.

“Steve. Nice to meet you, Steve.” Leo extends his hand and the husband shakes it in mild confusion. “As I was just trying to explain to your lovely wife, you’re not being punked. But I _am_ here because of a… a _planned_ TV show.”

Mindy squints her eyes. “Oh?”

“Yes, you see. It’s… the show is sort of like… well, sort of like _Wife Swap_ , but instead of swapping wives, people get to swap _apartments_ with… with _celebrities_. They get to live in the celebrities apartment, get massages, fancy dinners at the best restaurants in town… all expenses paid, of course… while… while the celebrity stays in their place and tries to figure out how the dishwasher works… let’s face it, _that’s_ the part that people are really interested in watching… and well—”

Leo gestures at Jemma and Daisy. “This is Lauren Wingdall, the creator behind this genius idea, and her assistant, Becca Flint… and well… they approached me to see if I would want to be a part of the show and… well, it’s all still in the planning stages, but they’ve randomly selected people to be asked to be part of a sort of trial run, you know, to pitch the idea to the network.”

“So you want… you want?” Mindy grins from ear to ear.

“We are here to see if you’d like to spend the next three days in my penthouse in L.A.”

Mindy’s eyes double in size, as she excitedly tucks on her husband’s sleeve, who seems in a state of shock.

“Like… leave _now_?” Steve asks confused.

“There’s no way this is going to work,” Daisy whispers in Jemma’s ear.

“Yep. My car is waiting downstairs to take you to my private jet and… off you go!” Leo lifts his hand like an airplane taking off.

“What about work?” the husband asks pragmatically.

“All taken care of, Steve.”

Steve looks at Mindy, who still grinning widely, staring at her husband full of hope. Then Steve shrugs.

Mindy lets out a little squeak and hugs Leo. “Just give us 10 minutes to pack!”

She hustles into the apartment but turns around. “Please, come inside. Make yourselves at home. This is so exciting! Do we need to sign anything?”

“Go ahead and pack. Lauren and Becca will get the papers ready.” Leo’s voice still sounds chipper, but he looks as if he were ready for a shower after the unexpected hug by a complete stranger.

Jemma leans closer as she walks by Leo and into the apartment. “What papers?” she whispers.

“These _fake_ papers I drew up.” Leo pulls some sheets of paper out of the inside pocket of his jacket and hands them to Jemma in passing, who can’t help but smile.

“Nicely done.” Daisy slaps Leo’s shoulder and steps into the apartment as well.

Leo tucks his hands in his pockets and starts wandering around the room. He gestures towards the far-end wall. “Breakfast nook. Neat!”

A shy smile flashes across Jemma’s face. She tries to remind herself that this isn’t Fitz, but _Leo_ who’s seeing their apartment for the first time, but she can’t help but be excited over the fact that he seems to like the place.

Jemma startles briefly, when Daisy’s head appears right next to her ear. “Okay. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not about to steal the virtual version of your real-life boyfriend, but _that_ was kinda hot!” Daisy pauses. “Is that wrong?”

Jemma nods. “Yes. Yes it is.” Her eyes remain focused on Leo, who’s currently inspecting the kitchen. “But who am I to judge.”

* * *

Leo ends his phone call, having checked in with his assistant to ensure that Mindy and Steve would be well taken care of once they arrive in L.A. and to keep the illusion of a fake TV show alive.

How _exactly_ he had explained the situation to his assistant, his drivers in D.C. and L.A., and his flight crew remained a mystery, but after having seen him convince two complete strangers to give up their apartment for three days, Daisy didn’t doubt Leo’s ability to also come up with a plausible explanation for his employees as well.

Leo lets himself fall into the armchair in the living room. “So, _you_ log out. Your avatars stay here with _me_ and hopefully remember everything like Holden said. _You_ report back to your folks in the real world, reprogram the backdoor so it’s at the S.H.I.E.L.D. base instead of here, and log back _in_ to get things settled for everyone else to get out?”

Jemma nods. “Correct! And as a sign that we’re logged back _in_ , Daisy and I will _both_ tell you ‘We’re back.’”

Daisy shakes her head. “Seems way too simple.”

Jemma shrugs. “Well, the avatars _should_ be aware that that’s our agreed upon code word, but they _shouldn’t_ feel any need to actually use the phrase _themselves_. They might just _wonder_ if they’re already back when in fact they or are _we_ … aren’t.”

“Suppose that makes sense.” Leo rubs his neck, noticeably nervous. “At least I _think_ it does. Let’s hope three days is long enough for you guys to get everything done.” He tilts his head. “Although I’m sure Mindy and Steve would gladly accept a few extra days in my flat.”

Daisy slaps her thighs and gets up from the couch. “Alright. You hold down the fort and we’ll hurry back as fast as we can.”

* * *

* * *

Her eyes shoot open and she gasps, feeling disoriented by the sudden change in scenery.

“It’s alright, Agent Simmons,” a quiet female voice says and Jemma feels a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

Jemma turns her head in the direction of the voice. “Agent Crawford?” Jemma is surprised to see the petite lab tech standing next to her.

“We thought someone with real medical training would be better at monitoring your vitals and status,” another voice with a strong Spanish accent chimes in.

Jemma looks the other way and sees Elena smiling widely. She’s standing next to Daisy, who is trying to sit up on her gurney, shaking her head slightly, seemingly just as disoriented by the switch between realities as Jemma.

“What’s going on?” Daisy asks, blinking with tired eyes.

“Could ask you the same!” Elena crosses her arms in front of her chest. “It’s been _two_ weeks!”

Jemma’s eyes widen. “ _Two?_ Fascinating. That implies that time in the Framework runs faster. It’s been _four_ weeks there.”

“¿Fascinante?” Elena squints her eyes. “You had us worried! You didn’t exactly tell us how long was _too_ long in the Framework.”

Jemma shrugs apologetically. “Well, I would assume _maybe_ a month or two, depending on the medical care the bodies receive. Nutrition, fluids and such. There would certainly also be muscle loss to worry about in prolonged states of immobility but— It’s hard to judge. Certainly the less the better.”

“Would have been nice if you’d mentioned that,” a somewhat deeper female voice announces dryly.

“Piper!” A smile flashes across Jemma’s face at the sight of the tough, short-haired agent, who’s grinning widely and taking a step closer to the two gurneys.

Jemma looks at the needle in the back of her hand and the intravenous line leading to the bag of fluids hanging from the I.V. pole. “Looks like you’ve been taking excellent care of _us_. Let’s hope Radcliffe was telling the truth and AIDA is doing the same with the rest of our team.”

“Radcliffe?” Elena’s eyes widen in surprise. “How do you—?”

“He’s in the Framework, too,” Daisy explains. “Trapped actually, ‘cause his killer kitten android plugged him in before slitting his wrists. The guy’s so petrified of dying that once Jemma promised him we might keep the Framework running once we’ve saved our people, he actually became quite chatty.”

“Keep it running? ¿Están locas?”

“One problem at a time, Elena, okay?” Daisy twists her body, one hand carefully reaching for where one of the bullets had hit her two weeks earlier. “So… Agent Crawford is here? You picked up some more people?”

“We’ve done more than that,” Piper replies. “We returned to the base, overpowered the remaining LMDs and have begun repairing the damage. We’ve also tried to track the Framework’s code, but no luck.”

Jemma feels her heart beating anxiously. “You… Are you _sure_ you got _all_ LMDs?”

Piper nods, her arms crossed in front of her chest. “Believe me! We made sure.” She looks at Daisy. “You said there were twenty of you down there and we got each and everyone of them, plus Fitz’s, Mack’s, Mace’s and we found debris of May’s and Coulson’s LMDs. And, we scanned every _inch_ of that place. We got them all.”

The corners of Jemma’s mouth quirk up briefly. “Thank you.”

Piper nods, pulling her mouth into a one-sided smile. “So, if Radcliffe was chatty, does that mean _you_ got good news for us?”

Jemma takes a deep breath. “Yes. The hostages are _still_ being held in Krasnoyarsk Krai, which _was_ a bit frustrating to find out, but at least we know now.”

Piper scoffs. “Davis’s gonna be excited to be taking his little baby for another spin. He’s getting pretty good as a Zephyr pilot. May’s gonna have to fight with him over the helm when she gets back.”

Daisy grimaces in amusement. “No offense, but I think we _all_ know who’d win that fight.”

Elena shifts nervously from one foot to the other. “So, you got to everyone of our people? They’re ready to come back?”

Jemma exchanges looks with Daisy. “Well. The world there… it’s _not_ an exact replica of our world as we suspected. AIDA made modifications to everyone’s past, everyone’s _memories_. So… we… we’ve had—”

“We haven’t been able to get to Mack yet,” Daisy interrupts. “I tried, but he wasn’t so keen on opening his door for a crazy person trying to tell him that his world isn’t real.”

“What did AIDA change?” Elena looks back and forth between Daisy and Jemma, her body language tense and anxious.

Daisy shrugs. “Not sure what _specifically_ , but he… he’s not with S.H.I.E.L.D. He’s in San Diego. A mechanic. Has his own shop. He’s a single dad.”

“¡Dios mío!”

“What?”

Elena slumps her shoulders, her arms dangling aimlessly by her side. “He… Mack had a daughter.”

Daisy leans forward. “ _What?_ ”

Elena’s gaze drops to the floor. “She… she died when she was only a few days old. Her name was Hope. That was… that was eleven years ago.”

“Fuck!” Daisy mutters quietly.

Elena looks back up and Jemma feels a sting in her heart seeing the pain in Elena’s teary eyes.

“You can’t take that life from him,” the strong Colombian woman says matter-of-factly, yet unable to hide the sadness behind her words.

Jemma gasps. “Elena!”

“¡No!” Elena interjects firmly. “Mack… If you keep the program running then he will continue to live in the Framework.” She shrugs, tilting her head forward to try and hide the tears in her eyes. “That… that’s good enough for me. I… I want him to be happy. He deserves that.”

“Fuck no!” Daisy exclaims angrily. “That’s… that’s _not_ his real life, Elena! I know it… it _sucks_ , but daughter or no daughter, I’m not just gonna _leave_ him there!”

Elena’s head shoots up and her brown are pleading. “Daisy. ¡Prométeme! Por favor. Promise me! Don’t… don’t _force_ him. Don’t just log him out. He… Let it be _his_ choice? Please! It should be _his_ choice.”

The room falls silent.

Jemma looks at Daisy, who’s clenching her jaw, avoiding Elena’s gaze and instead staring absentmindedly into the distance. Her eyes are blinking rapidly.

Daisy swallows and lifts her head, glancing briefly at Jemma before looking at Elena. She nods. “Fine. I’ll… I promise.”

Jemma exhales in relief. “We should start working on reprogramming the backdoor, Daisy,” she says quietly.

Daisy nods, her body slightly slumped forward. “Yeah. I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes. Yes, you are seeing correctly. The chapter count went up one more chapter to 15. 
> 
> *fingers crossed* I will still try (try really really hard) to at least finish the chapters that take place IN the Framework before the hiatus ends. No guarantees though.


	12. Refresh my broken mind

It had been almost four days since Jemma and Daisy had logged out and twelve hours later back into the Framework. Framework-hours and Framework-days, that was. Apparently time in the Framework ran faster than in the real world.

From the apartment, the three of them had headed to The Playground, as S.H.I.E.L.D.’s secret base was called.

Leo had begrudgingly agreed to let Jemma place a bag over his head. Safety precautions. Director Hand had supposedly insisted on it.

It was weird. He felt a sense of familiarity walking around the brick-walled corridors, sleeping in the small, dimly lit room, and yet he’d never set foot in the place.

Leo had demonstrated the memory machine on The Patriot, or Mace as Daisy and Jemma tended to call him. He’d been the only of the hostages who so far had insisted on having his memories restored.

Now—after several more meetings, briefings, debriefings, and even a lie detector test that Hand felt compelled to put him through (a very fine piece of machinery though, Leo had to admit)—Leo, Jemma, and Daisy were on their way back to L.A., the memory machine in tow. The next step in their rescue plan was to prep May and Coulson for the return to the real world and hopefully get a way to talk to Alphonso Mackenzie, the one hostage they had so far been unable to really talk to.

* * *

Daisy is sitting sideways in her seat, her legs dangling over the armrest. “Can’t believe Mace is serious about staying in the Framework.”

Jemma shrugs, looking shyly in her friend’s direction. “Well, once The Recollector restored his memories, he… he remembered that he was already close to death when he was plugged into the Framework. The overuse of the serum that gave him superhuman strength, in combination with torture from Ivanov—”

Jemma inhales slowly. “He feels like he’s on the brink of death and no use to S.H.I.E.L.D. in the real world, whereas _here_ he can make a difference. He’s an Inhuman hero! We… we have to accept his decision.”

“Yeah, but as far as we know, Mack’s _not_ dying in the real world.” Daisy shakes her head, playing nervously with her fingernails. “I just… I don’t know if I can accept if he decides he wants to stay. If we can even get to him,” she adds quietly and defeated.

Jemma sighs. “Yes, well, we… we’ll try talking to him again and—” She breaks off, lowering her head and slumping her shoulders.

Leo looks at the two women. Despite everything they’d been through, they’d struck him as pillars of strength and confidence. If one wavered, the other one picked up the slack. They steadied each other, gave each other strength.

_Now_ —despite being so close to their goal—the thought of maybe having to leave some of their friends behind seemed to be too much to handle.

Leo takes a deep breath. “So, this guy Mack? You said he lost his daughter as an infant in the real world but here she’s alive?”

“Yes,” Jemma replies barely above a whispers, her eyes still fixed on the ground.

Leo shakes his head. “Fuck.”

Daisy scoffs. “My words exactly.”

Leo presses his lips together, inhaling slowly through his nose. “Let me talk to him.”

Jemma looks up, her eyes wide and surprised.

Daisy’s head shoots up as well. She squints her eyes. “Dude, no offense, but I don’t think a fake TV show, a few days in your penthouse, or _any_ amount of money can convince Mack to give up his _daughter_.”

Her words feel like a punch to Leo’s gut, like all air has been forcefully pushed out of his lungs.

Leo clenches his jaw, feeling every muscle in his body tighten. “What the—?” he growls through his teeth, trying to push back the tears that blur his vision.

He gestures at himself, wishing his hands weren’t trembling. “Is that _really_ how you see me? Huh? That I… That I’m some kind of heartless, rich ass who tries using his _money_ to pay everything and everyone off who gets in his way?”

Daisy stares at him wide-eyed, her mouth slightly ajar.

Leo’s breathing feels strained and heavy, as if the air in the jet had been deprived of oxygen.

He gets up and rushes down the aisle, pushing past the flight attendant to disappear in the galley.

“Mr. Fitz?” the stewardess asks confused.

“Not now, Julie,” Leo barks, making the attendant jump and disappear in the cockpit.

He leans on the counter, trying to catch his breath, trying to calm down.

“Leo.” Jemma’s voice is quiet and calm.

Her hand on his shoulder feels warm and gentle, but Leo shakes it off.

“Don’t,” he whispers, staring at the counter in front of him.

He hears her exhale in defeat and sees her turn around through the corners of his eyes.

“How could… how could she—?” Leo straightens up, looking at Jemma, who has turned around, standing with one hand resting against the entrance to the small kitchen.

Leo fights back tears, gesturing at himself. “I… I know I’m not _him_.”

He bites his lips, trying to stop his chin from quivering. “I know I’m not… I’m not _perfect_ , okay. But… I’m not… I’m not—not like _that_!” He gestures towards the back of the plane, before protectively crossing his arms in front of his chest and lowering his gaze to the ground.

Leo watches Jemma’s feet moving closer, but he doesn’t dare look up. He closes his eyes, allowing a single tear to escape his eyes, when her hand touches his forearm.

“I know, Leo.” Her voice is soft and soothing and like a bee drawn to a flower, Leo lifts his eyes to look at her.

“I know you’re not like that.” Her thumb gently glides back and forth on his arm, and there’s a smile playing on her lips. “And nobody expects you to be perfect, Leo. Do you honestly think Fitz’s perfect?”

Leo scoffs briefly, shrugging his shoulders.

“ _Nobody’s_ perfect, Leo.”

“But you love him.” It’s barely more than a whisper and Leo wishes he hadn’t said it out loud at all.

Jemma chuckles. “Not because he’s _perfect_. Have you _ever_ fallen in love with anyone who’s _perfect_?”

Leo looks down, his heart beating frantically in his chest. Nervously, he taps the ground with the tip of his shoe.

“Yeah, well,” he mumbles, “apparently I’ve only fallen in love _once_ and… and she seems pretty perfect to me.”

Hesitantly, Leo looks back up and sees Jemma’s wide eyes staring back at him, her mouth slightly ajar.

“I’m sorry,” Daisy’s voice pipes up from the door.

Seemingly thunderstruck, Jemma pulls her hand back and turns around to look at her friend.

Daisy tucks her hands in her jeans pockets and takes a step closer. “You’re not a heartless ass.” She shrugs, trying to force a smile. “Apparently that’s more _my_ style.”

Daisy clicks her tongue. “I was out of line, Leo. _Totally_ out of line. I think… I think I’m just trying to keep my distance to you, okay? Remind myself that this isn’t real. I don’t like the prospect of my friends liking it better _here_ than in the real world. And I don’t like the prospect of getting too comfortable around here myself… but nice people are making it a bit difficult at times.”

She tilts her head side to side. “And yeah, I mean _you_ when I say ‘nice people.’”

Leo can’t help but chuckle quietly. He shakes his head ever so slightly. “I realize that I don’t know the guy, you know? But _maybe_ that’s actually an advantage.”

He gestures at Daisy. “Like you said, you are trying to keep your distance, but you… you _can’t_. _Neither_ of you. You’re _too_ close to this, too emotional. And nobody can blame you for that.”

Leo exhales sharply and shrugs his shoulders. “Maybe if _I_ talk to him, I can find some kind of outsider’s angle. It can’t hurt to let me try, can it now?”

Daisy nods, her gaze briefly wandering to Jemma before she replies. “You’re right, Leo. That’s… that’s a good idea.” One corner of her mouth quirks up. “Again. I’m sorry.”

* * *

* * *

Somewhat hesitantly Leo knocks on the door the mechanics had pointed him to.

“Better be important, guys. I’m doing invoices. I hate those damn things,” a deep, frustrated voice proclaims from inside.

Leo opens the door halfway and peeks his head in. His eyes widen when he catches sight of the man sitting in front of the slightly cluttered desk.

Jemma and Daisy could have warned him that he was about to talk to a fucking giant.

“Mr. Mackenzie?”

“Yeah.” The tree of a man looks up and squints his eyes.

“May… May I come in?”

“Umm. Yeah. Sure.” Mack begins shuffling some papers around on his desk and gestures to the free chair on the other side.

Leo steps closer and extends his hand. “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Mackenzie.”

“Call me Mack.” Mack shakes Leo’s hand firmly.

A smile flashes across Leo’s face. He opens the button of his suit jacket, puts the briefcase he’s carrying down on the floor next to the chair, and sits down. “Thank you, Mack. I’m—”

“You really think I don’t know who you are?” Mack interrupts him straight away.

Leo clicks his tongue. “Fair enough.”

Mack tilts his head slightly to one side, his eyes narrowed. “What do you want in my shop?”

“Straight to business? Alright. I like that.” Leo exhales sharply.

All of a sudden he becomes blatantly aware of what he’s about to say to a man twice his size. Leo takes another deep breath, trying to slow down his frantic heartbeat.

“I… There’s been a woman trying to talk to you. Daisy. Dark long hair. Slightly crazy. Pretty persistent and determined.”

“You have something to do with that crazy bitch?”

Leo clears his throat, scratching it at the same time. “Well… sort of. I… How much did she tell you before you closed the door on her?”

Mack scoffs. “Mumbled something about a virtual world and my life or my memories or something being messed up.” He shakes his head. “Should have called the cops.”

Leo nods slightly. “Yeah, well… I… I had a woman tell me the same thing. Different woman. Slightly less crazy. Equally determined though.”

Mack raises one eyebrow questioningly.

Leo puts his hands up in a _hear-me-out_ gesture. “I _know_ it’s hard to believe that she was telling the truth, but… before you kick me out too, tell me something: Why d’you think you didn’t call the cops on her? Was it because _something_ about her seemed familiar? Was it because even though it sounds _insane_ and like a cheap Sci-Fi movie plot, what she said _somehow_ made sense?”

Mack leans back in his chair, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “Maybe.”

Encouraged by Mack’s one-word-reply, Leo leans forward, pressing his index finger against the top of the desk. “And why are you still listening to _me_ when I must sound like yet another rich ass trying to start a cult of some sort? Is it because—aside from the fact that my face is plastered on magazine covers all over town— _I_ seem familiar, too? Like… on a personal level?”

Leo leans back, shrugging his shoulders. “‘Cause I’ve never seen you before, Mack, but I… I _still_ feel like I _should_ know you.”

“So what? So what if this is a virtual world? Where’s the problem?”

Leo lets his tongue glide back and forth across his lower lip. He exhales sharply. “We don’t belong here, Mack. We’re from the _real_ world.”

He gestures at Mack, then himself. “You, me, and _three_ of our colleagues were abducted and plugged in here against our will. Our bodies are being held hostage in some kind of facility in Russia, and if we don’t get out _soon_ , then our bodies die and our minds are stuck in here. Jemma and Daisy… aka the crazy bitch that showed up here… They’re here to rescue us. To get us to log out.”

“Abducted? Held hostage in Russia? Log out?” Mack lets out a single deep laugh and shakes his head. “Man, do you have _any_ idea how insane you sound?”

Leo nods with determination. “Yes. Yes, I have a _very_ good idea actually. But that doesn’t change the fact that I’m telling the _truth_! Look—” He straightens in his seat and waves one hand to the side. “This world isn’t right! It’s messed up. Hydra shouldn’t run the world. It shouldn’t even _exist_!”

“You’re a _good_ man, Mack.” Leo points at the office door. “Your employees _respect_ you. If that was _all_ I knew about you, it would be enough for me to know that you’re a good man!”

Mack squints his eyes, but waits patiently for Leo to continue.

Leo gestures at a picture of Hope on Mack’s desk. “Your daughter _loves_ you… D-Daisy and Jemma told me… told me that you believe in God.”

Leo throws one hand in the air. “Heck, this is probably the _only_ car mechanics office I’ve _ever_ seen that doesn’t have a pin-up girl calendar on the wall.”

Mack scoffs briefly in amusement. “The guys have been bugging me ‘bout that for years.”

One corner of Leo’s mouth quirks up. He looks at the tall man in front of him. “You’re a _good_ man, Mack.” He lifts his shoulders, leaning slightly forward. “Do you _like_ what our world has come to since Hydra’s rise? Do you think it’s _right_ that people are being hunted just because their DNA is set up a bit differently?”

Mack shakes his head without saying anything.

“From what Daisy and Jemma told me, the real world isn’t necessarily perfect, Mack, but we’re fighting. We’re part of S.H.I.E.L.D., Mack! You and me! You’re a mechanic and I’m an engineer for _S.H.I.E.L.D._ and they… they’re _legit_ and protecting the world and we’re… we’re making a _difference_.”

Leo gestures around the room. “ _Here_ … in this world? Don’t you feel fucking _helpless_?”

Mack’s index finger darts in Leo’s direction. “Watch your language!”

Leo raises his hands apologetically. “Fine, but… don’t you?”

Mack crosses his arms in front of his chest and shrugs. “Maybe, but—”

Leo gestures at himself. “We’re doing _good_ in the real world, Mack. We’re _needed_ there! We _matter_! If we stay here, then—”

Mack shakes his head, grinning one-sidedly. “Dude, you can stop, alright.”

Leo looks up in surprise, his lips slightly parted.

“Do you have any actual _proof_ that this world isn’t real,” Mack asks. “‘Cause if that’s true and I’m being held hostage somewhere and about to die if I don’t log out of this Matrix or whatever, then, hell yeah I’m logging out. Not ‘cause I’m some kind of spy, but… Do you _really_ think I’d let my little girl grow up without her dad in the real world?”

Leo swallows, his eyes wide and instantly starting to fill with tears.

Mack squints his eyes. “What?”

Leo draws in a shaky breath and looks to the ground. “Your daughter doesn’t exist in the real world. She… she died as an infant.”

Mack jumps out of his chair, his body tense from sudden rage. “ _What?_ Then _why_ would I leave? Are you nuts?” He throws one hand in the air.

Leo gets up, knowing full well that it’s a futile attempt to make himself as tall as the angry man in front of him. He leans forward, placing his hands on the table. “No… I’m not _insane_ enough to believe that telling you that your daughter is dead will make you want to leave, Mack. I’m not… I’m not even here to _convince_ you to go back. I’m here to give you a _choice_!” He straightens up, stabbing his index finger into the palm of his hand, before turning slightly to point at the door.

“I convinced Jemma and Daisy to keep the Framework running once we log out. They… _Originally,_ they wanted to shut the program down, because—” He shrugs. “Well, because _nothing_ here is real.”

Mack scoffs. He turns away from Leo, waving him off with one hand.

Leo takes a few steps around the desk, trying to get Mack’s attention back. He speaks quickly now, hoping to get as many things said as possible before Mack will surely grab him and throw him out of the office… literally.

“But they _won’t,_ Mack, okay? They’ll keep it running. At least they will try to convince S.H.I.E.L.D. to keep it running. Which means: You _can_ stay here, if that’s what you _truly_ want, but… but you shouldn’t make that decision without knowing all the details, without knowing _who_ you are in the real world, without knowing whom you’ll _lose_ if you stay here!”

Leo feels another boost in confidence when he notices Mack looking up slowly following the last statement. Mack’s eyes are still glaring and angry, but they’re also inquisitive.

“‘Cause, _yes_ , your daughter is missing from your real life, Mack, and… and I can’t imagine how much that must hurt, but… but there’s _other_ people there in the real world.”

Leo gestures towards the door as if the real world lay right behind it. “There’s a woman there who loves you _so_ much that she told those trying to get us out of here that they should leave you in this reality. She loves you _so_ much that she’d rather let you go and let you live a _happy_ life with your daughter no matter how fake it may be than bringing you back.”

Leo shrugs. “I… I’m not telling you to leave this world behind but I… _you_ should have all cards on the table before you make that decision.”

Mack points at Leo, his jaw clenched. “You haven’t given me _any_ proof! Why should I believe the crap you just told me?”

“I _can_ prove it.” Leo gestures at the briefcase next to his chair. “I have a device that can restore your missing memories.”

He picks up the case and opens it, revealing The Recollector. “Let me use it on you! Then you know _everything_. Then _you_ can decide.”

Mack scoffs, shaking his head and gesturing at the headpiece in the case. “How do I know you’re not trying to brainwash me.”

Leo can’t help but grin. He gestures at himself. “Why would I—a multi- _bill_ ionaire—brainwash a car and motorcycle mechanic?” He lifts his shoulders. “And _if_ I wanted to brainwash you, _why_ —for that matter—would I do it _personally_? And _why_ would I do it in your office when all your employees are right outside that door and saw me walk in… showed me the way, in fact?” He points at the office door.

“Fine. What do I do?”

“For starters, sit down, please.” Leo gestures at the chair.

Mack plops down, looking skeptically up and down Leo, who carefully places the headpiece on Mack’s head. “Can’t believe I’m letting you do this shit.”

Leo pulls out his laptop, puts it on the desk and opens it. He opens the program to run The Recollector. “Yeah, well, apparently we’re good friends in the real world, so maybe you just instinctively find me trustworthy.”

He straightens up and adjusts the headpiece one more time. “Also, _I_ get a ‘Watch your language!’ for ‘fuck’ but _you_ can say ‘shit’? Double-standards much?”

Mack lets out a quiet laugh. “You want me to change my mind about this?”

“Not really,” Leo replies quietly. He exhales sharply through his mouth. “Ready?”

“You tell me.”

Leo smiles shyly. “Just relax and close your eyes. Try to breathe slowly. You’ll feel a bit disoriented and maybe overwhelmed at first as the memories flood in, but your brain will adjust.”

Mack grips the armrests of the chair and shifts noticeably nervous in his seat. “How long will it take?”

“Ten-fifteen minutes.”

“Well, alright. Let’s get started.”

* * *

 Leo exhales a sigh of relief. “Alright. It’s all done. You can take the headpiece off now.”

Mack removes the headgear. He shakes his head as if to shake off a disturbing dream. Curiously, he turns the device in his hands back and forth. “You really do invent some crazy shit, Turbo.”

Mack stretches out the hand holding The Recollector and Leo takes it from him, a smile flashing across his face. “They told me that’s what you call me. Looks like it worked.”

Mack nods ever so slightly, his eyes serious. “Elena… she… she said I should stay here?”

Leo clears his throat. “She said it should be your choice.”

Leo notices the tears forming in Mack’s eyes. “Hope… Hope is—” Mack’s voice is barely above a whisper before it breaks off completely.

Leo sighs deeply, feeling a tight knot in his stomach. “Look, Mack, I… I don’t know if that matters. I don’t know what you’re planning on doing. I’m not trying to sway you one way or the other, but you should know that when people log out, then their avatars stay behind—”

He waves one hand horizontally across the ground. “—with _all_ their memories, _all_ their experiences. _If_ you decide to log out and go back to the real world, Mack, then… then _know_ that Hope will still be alive here. She will still have you in a way! You will still be there for her, _with_ her.”

Mack scoffs. His gaze is fixed on the floor. “But _I_ won’t have _her_ anymore, Turbo. _I_ won’t _see_ her, _hear_ her.” He shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, trying to hide the tears creeping to the surface.

Leo looks to the ground, resting his hands on his hips. He doesn’t know what to say. Doesn’t know if he should say anything at all.

He looks up when he notices Mack doing the same and is taken aback by the fiery eyes glaring at him.

Slowly, Mack gets up from his seat. He jabs his index finger into Leo’s chest and Leo instinctively takes a step back, feeling a sense of panic overcome him.

“ _You_ created this damn program, Turbo!” Mack’s tall body towers over Leo, his face only inches away from him. “Still think none of this is your fault? That you built a _tool_? A training exercise and nothing else? That Radcliffe is the only one to blame for this virtual crap?”

Mack straightens up, turning his back on Leo who’s standing dumbfounded, frozen to the spot.

“What?” Leo mutters in confusion.

Mack’s hand shoots backwards, pointing at the door, while he keeps his back turned to Leo. “Pack your damn machine and get out,” he growls. “I have some thinking to do. Tell Daisy to come back tomorrow. I’ll give her an answer then.”

Mack turns around and his angry and cold eyes seem to be cutting through Leo’s chest like a knife. “ _You_ better stay out of my eyesight for now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was insanely hard to write. Whatever the writers have in store for Mack's storyline, I'm pretty sure it will break my heart.
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me!
> 
> *fingers crossed* I'm getting more hopeful that I'll at least bring the Framework storyline to an end before the end of the hiatus.


	13. I’ll know my name as it’s called again

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is rated T

Leo looks up, when the elevator doors open. He pauses for a moment before stepping out of the elevator cabin when he sees two strangers sitting at his dinner table with Jemma and Daisy.

“Leo.” Jemma smiles and gets up.

Leo puts the briefcase with the memory machine down next to the elevator, watching Jemma approach through the corners of his eyes.

He straightens up, pulls up his trousers, and tucks his hands in his pockets, looking skeptically at the stern-looking Asian woman and non-descriptive, middle-aged man with a seriously receding hairline sitting in his dining area.

“Who’s that?” He gestures with his head at the two people.

Jemma briefly turns her head back towards the table before focusing on Leo. “Melinda May and Phil Coulson.”

Leo lets out a puff of air through his nose, keeping his eyes on the two strangers. “Oh.”

Jemma’s lips twitch into a shy smile. “Daisy brought them over. We want to discuss our next steps.” She chuckles briefly, leaning a bit forward. “Apparently they were bickering on the whole drive over… but in a very _flirtatious_ way that made Daisy think they’d start making out in the back of the car any second now.”

Jemma pauses, clearly waiting for a response from Leo that doesn’t come.

“Daisy looked like she needed a drink when she arrived,” Jemma jokes, her hands nervously fidgeting with each other. “Well, she _got_ herself a drink actually. Hope you don’t mind.” She looks back at the table where two six-packs from Leo’s beer stash (one with three bottles removed) are standing in the middle of the table. She turns back to face him, smiling warmly.

Leo stares past Jemma, noticing nonetheless the hint of an increasingly more nervous look in her eyes. He can tell that he’s making her worried, but the visit at Mack’s shop had left him shaken and drained and the prospect of now having to talk to two more fellow hostages seems less than appealing.

“Nah. It’s fine,” Leo mutters quietly and for the first time since he had arrived back home, his eyes wander to the woman standing in front of him. One corner of his mouth quirks up into the hint of a smile. It almost feels like a reflex. “Might need one myself,” he tries to joke.

Jemma tilts her head. “Are you okay?” Her voice is barely above a whisper and full of concern.

Leo notices how one of her hands seems to try and reach for him one second then pull back the next until it grabs hold of the fingers of her other hand instead.

Leo shrugs. “’m fine for someone who just told a man that his daughter in the real world died as an infant.”

Her lips begin to quiver sadly, and Leo looks to the ground, regretting that he’d been so blunt, wishing he could conjure a smile to her lips instead of tears to her eyes.

“Leo,” she whispers.

He looks up, forcing a smile and squeezes her shoulder. “’s okay.”

He walks past her, taking off his suit jacket and throwing it over the couch before approaching the kitchen table.

Daisy gestures from person to person. “Leopold Fitz – Melinda May – Phil Coulson.”

Leo extends his hand. Phil immediately jumps up, takes Leo’s hand and shakes it firmly. A friendly smile plays on the stranger’s lips. “Call me Phil! Lovely place, Leo. I must say: C-3PO and K-9—” He lets go of Leo’s hand, gesturing towards the two robots with his thumb. “Impressive. _Any_ chance I can convince you to come to one of my classes one day? My kids would _love_ that kind of stuff. I’m always trying to use pop culture references to spice up my classes, teach them history by making it more relatable.”

He pauses briefly, before excitedly pointing at Leo with both index fingers. “You should see my Admiral Ackbar impression!”

“No, no he should _not_ ,” May replies dryly, leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms in front of her chest, her eyes sternly fixed on her husband, who takes the hint and sits back down.

Leo forces a shy smile and extends his hand in May’s direction, who, however, merely nods her head as a greeting.

He sighs and sits down, glancing at Jemma, who’s sat back down herself, her expression between concern and reassurance.

“How’d it go with Mack?” Daisy asks and Leo forces himself to look away from Jemma and at Daisy instead.

Leo reaches for one of the beer bottles. He opens it and takes a long sip, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before replying. “He let me use The Recollector on him. Remembered everything. He said he has to think about it. That _you_ should come to his workshop tomorrow morning.” He lifts his chin in Daisy’s direction.

Daisy takes a deep breath in relief and leans back in her chair. “Dude. That’s _way_ better than anything I’ve achieved so far, so… I’ll take it. Thanks! That’s awesome.”

Leo nods absentmindedly. “Yeah. No worries.” He sighs. “Just let it be _his_ decision, okay?”

“Yeah. I will.” Her reply is quiet and for a moment the entire room falls silent, until May speaks up.

“So _you’re_ the one who built Daisy’s decoy?” May’s calm and reserved tone reminds Leo of Hand, although there seems to be a touch more warmth in the Asian’s voice.

“It’s impressive,” May adds. “I’d certainly be interested in something like that. Might make it a bit easier for me to check in with S.H.I.E.L.D. once in awhile.”

Leo draws in a shaky breath, feeling his stomach twinge nervously. “I… I _helped_ build it. Holden Radcliffe did most of it. He… he remembered the specs from the real world.” He shrugs. “I’m sure we can build one for you, too.”

“Excellent.”

Leo clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably in his chair. “And your husband?” He turns to Phil. “Do _you_ need an LMD, too?”

Phil’s eyes widen and a smile appears on his lips. “I’m not quite sure, actually. What do you think, honey?”

May’s head shoots in Phil’s direction. “I told you not to call me that in public, Phil,” she growls quietly through her teeth.

Phil gestures at the room in confusion. “We’re _not_ in public. We’re in an apartment.”

May raises the index and middle finger of her left hand in Phil’s direction. “There are _two_ people here we’ve never met before. That’s public enough for me.”

Phil shrugs, opening his mouth to reply something.

“Ummm, guys,” Daisy tries to get their attention.

“You’re a high-school teacher, Phil. What do you need an LMD for? Get out of chaperoning the homecoming dance?” May’s eyes are still fixed on her husband, but there is a teasing sparkle in them, suggesting that their banter is not quite as serious as it comes across.

“Well, no. I _love_ chaperoning the homecoming dance.” Phil tilts his head. “Could do without supervising detention, though.”

May’s lips twitch into the hint of a smile, before she rolls her eyes. Then she turns to look at Leo. “He doesn’t need an LMD.”

Leo shrugs. “Alright. Works for me.”

“What about the memory machine?” Daisy asks, leaning forward to rest her arms on the table. “Have you guys decided if you want your memories restored? Sounds like it worked great for Mack.”

May nods firmly. “Yes. I want my memories. I’m not worried about keeping my histories straight or blowing my cover. I’m doing that every day. An extra set of memories won’t make a difference.”

She leans back, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Hand mentioned that S.H.I.E.L.D. encountered a situation a week or so back. Some Canadian scientist that got kidnapped? And her—” She gestures at Jemma with her head. “—memories of a similar event in the real world saved S.H.I.E.L.D. a lot of time and trouble. If _my_ real-life persona has intel like that I sure as hell want to have access to it.”

Leo feels all eyes wandering in his direction. He draws in a slow breath through his teeth and nods. “Yeah. Sure. We… we can do it anytime. Tonight if you want to. Although it would be better if you weren’t under the influence of alcohol.”

“I’m not.” May gestures at a glass of clear liquid on the table. “I don’t drink on the job. And _this_ counts as a job meeting.”

Leo shrugs apologetically. “Okay. We… we can do it later or now or… whenever.”

Leo can feel Jemma’s eyes staring at him full of concern, but she doesn’t say anything and he avoids looking at her. Only through the corners of his eyes does he see her blurry silhouette.

“What about you?” Leo asks Phil, trying to give Jemma something else to focus on.

Phil raises both hands in front of his chest. “No. I mean. Thank you, but, Melinda can tell me anything that’s important and I… I’m perfectly happy with my life here. I got a good job, a badass wife. I think getting my real-life memories back when I’m, well, back in the real world will be soon enough. Here, I just wanna stay _me_.”

May straightens up in her chair. “Alright. So, now that that’s settled. What’s next? How does ‘getting out’ work?” she asks matter-of-factly.

Jemma’s eyes wander around the table as she takes a deep breath. “Daisy and I will return to the Playground tomorrow. That’s where our backdoor is programmed. By now, our team in the _real_ world should have reached the facility in Russia, but we _insisted_ that they should not take _any_ actions until Daisy and I have logged out and are there to provide more intel on the layout of the base and any safety precautions AIDA may have in store for us.”

“Yeah, Radcliffe already mentioned that AIDA was about to turn Ivanov in some sort of creepy-ass human-android-hybrid with his head in a jar somewhere,” Daisy chimes in. “I mean, those jarheads were already kinda gross in _Futurama_ and those were animated.”

Jemma smiles shyly before continuing to describe their plan. “Once we’ve secured the compound and have located our people, we will use the exit protocol that Radcliffe gave us—”

“Which I’ve analyzed, which looks legit, and which I can easily recreate and upload once we're back,” Daisy interjects briefly.

“—to slowly wake up the hostages. Well, the ones that decided to leave,” Jemma adds quietly.

“So it doesn’t matter where we are when you pull us out?” May asks.

Jemma shakes her head. “No. Your avatars will _automatically_ take over as soon as your mind has been logged out. It doesn’t matter where you are or what you’re doing.”

May scoffs and shrugs her shoulders. “Certainly makes things easier for me.”

“Awesome,” Daisy exclaims excitedly. “So, now that everyone knows what’s what, I feel like, you know, we’ll be heading home soon, so maybe we should celebrate? I’m in the mood for pizza.” She rubs her hands, looking expectantly at the people at the table.

Phil nods enthusiastically, while May approvingly purses her lips. Jemma only manages a forced smile and a slight nod with her head, while her eyes once again seem to focus on Leo, who glances away, feeling his stomach tighten uncomfortably.

He inhales slowly and gets up from his chair. “Sure. I’ll get the menu of the place I usually order from.”

Quickly he turns around to avoid Jemma’s concerned looks and heads for the kitchen.

* * *

* * *

Jemma stands in front of his closed bedroom door.

Daisy, May, and Coulson had left about an hour ago. Jemma had helped Leo clean up, but he’d been distant and excused himself as soon as they were done. Jemma had gone to her room, taken a quick shower. Her hair was still slightly damp, even though she’d dried it. She’d sat down on her bed, trying to distract herself, but she’d felt uneasy, restless, worried, and when the feelings became too much, she’d gotten up and headed for his room.

Now she’s standing there, staring at the white door.

It’s not the fear of waking him that’s holding her back.

She can hear the TV, some kind of late-night talk show. He’s still awake.

It’s something else. Something Jemma can’t quite put her finger on.

She takes a deep breath and knocks.

The TV noises stop and instead Jemma notices her own heartbeat, strong, fast and nervous.

She hears him getting out of bed.

The door opens and like a reflex, the sight of him conjures a smile to her lips that disappears just as quickly when she notices his sad and tired eyes.

He holds on to the door, his jaw is clenched, his body language tense.

He doesn’t say a word.

Jemma tilts her head. “Are you okay, Leo? You’ve been very quiet all evening.”

He looks to the ground, his eyes blinking rapidly. “Why didn’t you tell me?” There’s a slight tremor in his voice.

“Tell you what?”

He looks up, his eyes misty and defeated. “That I was involved?”

Jemma wrinkles her forehead and shakes her head. “What are you talking about, Leo?”

He gestures angrily at himself with both hands. “ _I_ helped build this world! Just like I helped build AIDA. This is _my_ fault. _All_ of it!”

Jemma’s mouth gapes slightly ajar, surprised by the volume of his voice.

She shakes her head vehemently. “ _No!_ No it’s _not_! _Radcliffe_ corrupted what Fitz helped design.”

He lifts his shoulders, leaning slightly forward. “Doesn’t change the fact that I helped build it.”

“Fitz’s intentions were _good_.” Jemma’s not sure why she’s yelling.

Maybe it’s a reflex, a reaction to the way he had raised his voice. Maybe it’s because she’s tired. Maybe she hates that he doubts Fitz, doubts his real self.

Leo glares at her, his look a mix of anger and confusion. He has one hand on his hip, the other gesturing to the side. “And then when things went south? _Huh?_ Mack asked if I still thought it was nothing but a tool. Did I… Did I try to defend myself like _that_? That I built a tool, nothing else? Take _no_ responsibility?”

“Of _course_ not!” Jemma yells.

Leo gestures at his chest, his hand trembling. “Hydra’s been stealing our stuff and I’ve been working my _ass_ off trying to figure out where the leak is and how to stop them from using _our_ things for their fucking—” He stops, placing his free hand on his hip as well. His chest is heaving and his eyes are darting left and right, unsure where to look, what to focus on.

Jemma has tears in her eyes. Her jaw is tight. She stares at Leo. How _dare_ he doubt Fitz? How _dare_ he doubt him? How dare he doubt _himself_?

She leans forward, bringing herself closer to where Leo’s standing in front of her and vents her anger, screams at him, ignores his wide and surprised eyes.

“ _Nobody_ felt more guilty about the bad things AIDA did than Fitz. _Nobody_ felt more guilty about her killing Nathanson. _Nobody_ felt more guilty about what happened to Agent May. And Fitz tried to _fix_ it.”

She gestures at herself with both hands. “ _We_ tried to fix it. _Together_. And when he wakes up, _nobody_ will feel more guilty about what happened to _each_ and _every_ one of us than _Fitz_ , even though he _shouldn’t_. I already told _him_ that and I’ll tell _you_ the same.”

Jemma stabs her index finger into Leo’s chest and he flinches. “Just because someone used his ideas for evil doesn’t make it _his_ fault for creating it. _He_ created them for good. He is a _good_ person, with a _brilliant_ mind who creates things to _help_ people, to _protect_ them and _save_ them.”

She waves her hand to the side and points down the hallway. “And when we get out of here, I will spend as long as it takes until he _stops_ doubting himself, until he _stops_ doubting the things he creates, until he _believes_ in himself again!”

Jemma feels her chest rise and fall with each short and anxious breath. She stares at Leo, whose head is hanging low. He looks small and defeated.

The unbearable silence is ringing in Jemma’s ears and she turns around to leave, trying to hide the tears in her eyes.

“Jemma.” It’s barely above a whisper; a desperate man’s cry for help.

She turns around, noticing his eyes shimmering sadly. Suddenly, Jemma realizes that she’d yelled the entire time; yelled at him, when all he had tried to do was understand who he was in the real world.

She takes a step closer. “I’m sorry, Leo… I shouldn’t have—”

His eyes are blinking away tears and he doesn’t seem to have any intentions or the will to stop them. “Am _I_ good, Jemma?” He gestures at himself, his hand shaking like a leaf in the storm of emotions that seems to surround him.

“ _Me_?” he whispers, his pleading eyes fixed on her. “ _Leo_? Am I good like the man you know. Like the man you _love_?”

He pauses, wetting his lips. “Do you think that… do you think that if we met _here_ , if _this_ was reality, if this version of me was _all_ there was—”

His voice breaks off and for a moment all that’s left is the sound of his shallow breaths. He bites his lip. “Do you think… do you think you could _ever_ fall in love with me like you fell in love with him?”

Jemma looks at him, his blue familiar eyes. Her chin quivers and her eyes glaze over and every cell in her body screams an answer as she’s flooded with emotions, one towering above all others.

“Oh Leo,” she says barely above a whisper, as her lips pull into a trembling smile. “I already have.”

He stares at her, wide-eyed, his lips slightly apart, his chest heaving up and down.

She notices how his eyes dart back and forth between her eyes and her lips.

She’s seen that look in his eyes before. The longing. The fear. His mind racing and wondering if he deserved the love he thought she felt for someone else.

It feels familiar when he cups her face, when his lips crash against hers, urgently, almost panicked, as if time was running out and it was now or never.

Maybe it was.

Jemma’s hands reach up, her fingers comb through his hair, curl around his neck, while his hands let go of her face and wrap around her waist instead.

Their mouths are eager, yearning, and Jemma moans when their tongues begin to dance.

Leo pulls her into the room and she reaches behind herself to close the door. She tumbles backwards, dragging him along, until her back hits the door.

She closes her eyes and tilts her head when he begins placing fervent kisses down her neck.

Jemma pulls him back up, her mouth longing to feel his lips again.

His hand glides down her waist, down her thigh, until it hooks behind her knee, pulling her leg up.

Jemma leans against the door for support, dropping her head back. She gasps when his lips nip at her pulse point, when he pushes his hips forward, pressing their bodies closer together.

Surprised, she opens her eyes when his kisses suddenly disappear from her skin.

He’s staring at her. “Tell me to stop,” he pleads breathlessly.

Jemma gazes into his mesmerizing blue eyes. The corners of her mouth quirk up and she shakes her head, cupping his face. “Why would I?”

Her reply conjures a smile to his lips, as the anxious shimmer in his eyes disappears, and they instead grow darker and hungry.

* * *

Jemma closes her eyes, listens as their heavy breathing becomes calmer, syncs up. She hears her heartbeat slow down. It feels like the kettledrum in an orchestra, becoming more quiet, more gentle after the concerto has reached its highpoint, the grand finale, a loud crescendo followed by a quiet finish as the final notes ebb away.

Her fingers loosen their grip on his shoulders, as the ecstasy of her climax gives way to a flood of mixed emotions. Jemma’s hands comb through his hair, down his naked and sweaty body. She pulls him closer by the back of his head, buries her face into the crook of his neck, inhales his scent.

He places a gentle kiss against the tender skin below her ear, and the soft sensation opens a flood of tears. Their hips are still joined, every inch of her skin still touching his, and yet Jemma tries to pull him closer, as she cries against his neck.

He tries to push himself up on his forearms, forcing Jemma to loosen her tight embrace.

He gazes down at her, his eyes shimmering behind a mist of tears. “Please tell me I didn’t hurt you. Tell me you don’t regret this. Please—”

Jemma chuckles through her tears and brings her hands up to frame his face. “Leo. I _don’t_ regret this. These aren’t _sad_ tears, believe me.”

An insecure smile flashes across his face, and Jemma curls her hands around his neck, pulling him closer, kissing him tenderly, reassuring him that he had nothing to worry about.

For a while, they let their lips dance. Slowly. Gently moulding against each other. Jemma enjoys the pleasant sensation of her stomach fluttering each time his body presses against her, each time his fingers brush against her skin, each time their tongues touch.

Leo pushes himself up, smiling happily, his fingers combing through her hair, before he rolls off her body and lies down next to Jemma on his side. Jemma turns onto her side as well to face him. She feels a slight chill as the cool stream from his air conditioning brushes against her glistening skin which had lost the warmth from his body. Leo’s hand slowly glides up and down the outline of her torso, while his eyes absentmindedly explore her curves.

“How long have you known?” Jemma asks quietly.

His eyes move up to her face. There’s a boyish sparkle in them that makes Jemma smile. “Is it too cheesy if I say when I saw you at the press conference?”

Jemma lets out a single laugh. “Yes,” she teases him.

He chuckles briefly, while his finger moves to trace a ticklish line from her ear, down her neck, along her collarbone. “It’s… I mean, I couldn’t remember you… I _still_ can’t, but I _felt_ something. Something more than I’d ever experienced before. And then—” He pauses, his eyes glazing over for a moment as his mind seems to go back in time. “Maybe it was in Malta.” He shrugs. “I mean, I risked my life for you, because I felt I _had_ to. That saving you was my purpose.”

Jemma drops her head back slightly. “Gosh I really wish it wasn’t. You’ve risked your life way too many times already.” She reaches for his cheek, feeling his stubble rough against the palm of her hand. “Why didn’t you say anything sooner, Leo? Why didn’t you _do_ anything?”

He looks at her, his eyes hesitant and serious and shrugs barely noticeably. “Because, even though I knew I loved _you_ … you love _him_! And I’m _not_ him. And you… you didn’t need another person using your feelings for _him_ against you. What you went through with… with his LMD. I couldn’t do that to you. Your feelings weren’t for _me_. They were for _him_. I didn’t feel like I had the _right_ to say anything, to _act_ on it.”

Jemma smiles, her hand gently caressing his cheek. The more time she’d spent with him, the more she’d felt she could see Fitz in his gestures, the way he spoke, the way he thought. “Oh, Leo,” she whispers.

He tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear. “Let me go with you tomorrow,” he says quietly.

Jemma slumps her shoulders, sighing heavily. “Leo, you can’t. You _can’t_ log out with us, you know—”

“Yes, I know that,” he interjects. “I didn’t mean _log out_ with you. I meant, let me go with you to D.C., to the Playground. I… I can’t say goodbye yet. I… I can’t. Well. I don’t _want_ to. And… and honestly, I think we should take Holden along, too!” He shrugs. “I mean you got this pretty nifty lie detector! Put him in there! Then you won’t have to worry about whether he might try to backstab you or feed you false information.”

Jemma smiles, slightly surprised. “That’s… that’s really quite brilliant. I can’t believe I didn’t think of that.”

“Yeah well. I have my genius moments.”

Jemma laughs out loud at his smug comment.

Leo gently rubs her arm. “We have our lab in D.C. It will be easy to tell Agnes or anyone else who asks that we have to check in on the lab. Won’t blow our covers. I know you worry about that.”

He takes a deep breath, smiling shyly. “And I know I can probably not be an _agent_ in this world but… but I hope that, even when we log out that I… that my avatar… _our_ avatars… that we’ll work together. That I can _help_ S.H.I.E.L.D.! Help defeat Hydra.”

Jemma chuckles quietly. She scoots closer to him, letting her eyes sparkle suggestively. “Oh I think we’ll probably do a lot more than just _work_ together.”

Leo laughs, bringing his body closer to hers until his arm wraps around her and his hand strokes the small of her back. “I like how you think.”

Jemma looks into his blue eyes, her own expression becoming more serious again. “Will you do it?”

“Do what?” Leo squints his eyes.

“Use the memory machine?”

“Oh.” Leo draws in a surprised breath. “I… yes… yes, but I want to wait until you’ve logged out.” He lifts his shoulders. “I don’t even quite know _why_ , but I wanna wait.”

“Why do you want to do it at all?”

One corner of his mouth quirks up briefly. “Because I want to remember our past. I feel like I’m missing half our story. And when I leave this world, I want to make sure my avatar knows our whole story too!”

Jemma can’t help but smile widely, and the sight seems to be enough to make Leo laugh.

He grins at her mischievously. “’Cause I can’t _stand_ that smug smile you get when I talk about something and it reminds you of something from our past that _I_ don’t remember.”

Leo rolls on top of her, bringing his face closer, his eyes sparkling teasingly. “I just want to wipe that self-congratulatory grin off your face.”

Jemma laughs out, curling her hands around his neck and pulling him closer until their smiling lips meet, and their conversation continues without words.

* * *

* * *

Jemma shoots up in bed, the faint images of his lifeless face on the floor and a bloody knife in her hand still haunting her. Her mouth gaps ajar, her chest is heaving, and yet she feels as if her lungs are being deprived of oxygen.

She looks to the side and sees him sitting next to her, his eyes wide, his lips silent.

Jemma scrambles out of bed, as far away from him as she can. She sits down next to his drawer, her back pressed against the wall, pulling her knees up and hugging them tightly against her naked body. Her fearful eyes stare at him.

He sits in bed. Not saying a word. His eyes staring intensely at her.

Slowly, the nightmare loses its power over Jemma and she begins to recognize her surroundings, begins to realize that his eyes aren’t cold, aren’t threatening; they’re full of concern. She realizes that he’s not silent to seem intimidating or ghostly. He’s silent to give her a chance to catch her breath.

She notices her breathing slowing down, her heartbeat becoming more regular, less frantic.

She sighs and buries her face between her knees when tears begin streaming down her face as anxiety is replaced with a mix of relief and defeat.

“May I come closer?” His voice is soft and soothing.

Jemma looks up. He’s still sitting on the bed, awaiting her reply.

Jemma nods, her chin quivering sadly.

He gets out of bed and grabs the comforter. Slowly he walks over to where she’s cowering. He sits down next to her, his eyes smiling reassuringly at her as he wraps the blanket around her shivering body.

"What do you need, Jemma? What can I do? That was the deal, remember. Tell me what you need!"

Jemma's chin quivers and she looks at his face, blurred behind a curtain of tears.

"Hold me."

A faint smile flashes across his face and he nods.

Jemma leans closer and Leo puts his arms around her, pulling her with him to the floor. Her head rests on his arm, while his other is draped around her.

The floor is hard below them, but Jemma quickly feels herself falling asleep as her body slowly stops trembling.

She notices him press a gentle kiss against her forehead.

“You’re strong enough,” he whispers and a smile flashes across Jemma’s face before she drifts off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My wonderful beta reader @marvelthismarvelthat told me "sljfwo;sj;oiow you can't just say this and not show me" and "I'm begging you to write a small scene with this before you restore their memories XD" when she read "Coulson is basically on board with whatever his wife says and let me tell ‘ya, it’s fucking hilarious to see those two together!" in Chapter 11. And she's been so amazing to stick with me and this long monstrosity that I just had to write some May/Coulson for her ;)
> 
> [The bit about May & Coulson picking on the ride over and Daisy worrying they'll start making out, is based on @marvelthismarvelthat's own suggestion ;) ]
> 
> Yep. The chapter count went up to 16. There will be one more (short?) Framework chapter before we move back to the real world, so I'm hopefully I can finish the Framework arc before the hiatus ends like I had hoped.


	14. You take what is yours and I’ll take mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Framework arc epilogue

They had woken up fairly late in the morning, Jemma’s head still resting on Leo’s arm. He had smiled at her, even though Jemma strongly suspected that his arm must be killing him.

Daisy had shown up just as they were finishing up breakfast. It had taken her mere minutes to figure out that something had shifted in Jemma’s and Leo’s relationship. She didn’t say anything, but gave Jemma a knowing smile.

When Daisy had told them that Mack had decided to return to the real world, Jemma felt like a rock had been lifted of her chest. She had noticed that Leo remained quiet, forced a smile, but couldn’t hide a guilty sadness shimmering in his eyes, while the two women had excitedly talked about the good news.

Jemma knew Leo was still remembering Mack’s harsh words and that Fitz’s mind would carry the guilt about what Mack had to leave behind in the Framework with him into the real world. But just as she had told Leo the night before, Jemma was determined to help Fitz overcome his guilty conscience.

The flight from L.A. to D.C. had been rather pleasant; the atmosphere carefree and relaxed. Hunter and Daisy had made a sport of teasing Jemma and Leo whenever they tried to exchange looks, smiles, and stolen-yet-apparently-not-subtle-enough touches, but Jemma and Leo had enjoyed their newfound closeness far too much to take their friends’ taunts too seriously.

Only Radcliffe had been quiet, sulking quietly in a leather seat towards the front of the plane, nursing a Scotch. Obviously, he wasn’t too thrilled about the prospect of a lie detector test, but like Leo had suspected, he had learned his lesson and was ready to make amends for the pain and betrayal he had caused both Leo and Fitz as well as the remaining members of S.H.I.E.L.D.. For the most part, Jemma had tried to ignore his presence, not willing to forgive him but willing to keep her promise to keep the Framework running… not for his sake, but for everyone else’s.

* * *

* * *

Radcliffe has tucked himself into a corner in the Playground’s common room, his head hanging low. He had passed his lie detector test with flying colors, but the shame he seemingly felt about everything that had happened due to his meddling is written all over his face.

“I wanna talk to him,” Leo says quietly, gesturing with his head in Radcliffe’s direction. “He looks like he could use a bit of a pep talk.”

Jemma nods. “We’re going to start saying goodbye to people.”

Daisy next to her sighs. “I hate goodbyes. You’d think it’d be easier leaving this fucked up world behind, but somehow—”

“I’ll miss you, too, Daisy,” Leo interjects, smiling one-sidedly.

Daisy blinks, quickly wiping away a few tears with the back of her hand. “Fuck, don’t make me cry, asshat.”

Jemma tries to suppress a giggle, while Leo laughs out loud, before pulling Daisy into a tight hug. “See you on the other side!” he whispers into Daisy’s ear, yet loud enough for Jemma to overhear.

Daisy punches Leo on his shoulder, who pretends to flinch in pain, before turning around and heading to Radcliffe.

Jemma sees Radcliffe’s face light up when he notices Leo with his hands tucked into his pockets in the all too familiar way. She can’t help but smile realizing that much like Fitz on so many occasions in the real world, Leo was willing to give friends a second chance, a chance to try and mend the damage that had been done.

“It was _such_ a pleasure.”

Jemma spins around on her heels when Koenig’s excited voice startles her.

She smiles and accepts Koenig’s hand, who shakes hers vigorously before moving on to Daisy’s hand. “I cannot thank you enough, Agents Simmons… Quake.”

Daisy rolls her eyes, jabbing her elbow into Jemma’s ribcage, who tries not to laugh.

“My brothers and sister will never be able to one-up me. _Never!_ I mean, telling them that our entire world isn’t _real_. It’s just… it’s just not topable! Thank you. So much!”

Jemma exchanges a brief look with Daisy. “It was our… pleasure,” Jemma replies, not quite sure what else to say.

Koenig clicks his tongue before turning around and heading towards the kitchen area.

“Director Hand! Jeffrey!” A smile flashes across Jemma’s face when she sees Hand and Mace enter the common area.

Hand nods stoically and walks over to where Jemma and Daisy are standing. Mace follows her, a smile playing on his lips.

Jemma shakes the Director’s hand. “I cannot thank you enough for your willingness to give me a chance to explain myself _and_ your willingness to help us. It’s been an _honor_ working for you, Director.”

“The honor’s all mine, Agent Simmons.” Hand switches from shaking Jemma’s hand to Daisy. “Agent Johnson.”

One corner of Hand’s mouth briefly twitches into the hint of a smile. “But lucky for _me_ it sounds like _I_ will get to keep you in the form of your avatars, whereas _you_ will have to learn to live _without_ me. Good luck with that.”

Jemma and Daisy chuckle at the Director’s dry joke.

Hand steps to the side to make room for Mace.

“Are you _absolutely_ sure about your choice?” Jemma asks.

Mace scoffs, grinning smugly. “Yes. Stop asking. You make sure you get everyone else out safely. I’ll do my part here.”

Daisy shakes his hand. “We may not always have seen eye to eye, but… it’s been an honor, sir… retroactively speaking.”

Mace laughs out loud. He points one finger at Daisy then Jemma, winking one eye and tilting his head, grinning mischievously. “A team that trusts—”

“Please, don’t,” Jemma and Daisy exclaim in unison.

Hand and Mace excuse themselves, when they notice Trip, who had tried to make his presence known subtly by clearing his throat.

Trip takes a step closer, his smile as usually brightening the entire room.

Jemma pulls him into a tight hug. “Don’t die in here! That’s an order.”

Trip lets out a small laugh, while Jemma steps back, allowing Daisy to hug him as well.

“I know the two of us didn’t spend a ton of time together in this world,” Daisy says. “But you were kinda important to me in the other, so I second that order.”

Trip grins at them mischievously, squinting his eyes in pretend protest. He gestures at himself with both thumbs. “ _I’m_ Level 6. _You’re_ Level 5.” He points at Jemma, then Daisy. “ _You’re_ Hydra. Two of you can’t order me nothing!”

They laugh out loud and Trip pulls both of them into another hug.

Jemma turns her head, when she notices Hunter through the corners of her eyes, standing shyly to one side, his head slightly tilted forward, his hands tucked into his jeans pockets.

Jemma smiles. She glances at Daisy, signalling that she’d like a moment alone with Hunter.

Daisy takes the hint. She gestures with her head to the side while keeping her eyes fixed on Trip, who follows her lead and walks a few steps away from Jemma and Hunter.

Once they have a bit more privacy, Jemma once more smiles at Hunter, who still seems unusually shy and quiet. “Your turn!”

Hunter lifts his head. He glances side to side as if to make sure that nobody else is listening. “If you ever see Bobbi over there… tell her… tell her that I love her, okay?”

Jemma tilts her head, feeling her eyes become misty. She wets her lips and smiles reassuringly. “I have a feeling you’re telling herself that every day over there, Hunter.”

Hunter wipes the back of his hand across his eyes, before looking back at Jemma, nodding softly. “Thanks.”

Jemma sighs, feeling a tight knot in her stomach. “I’m gonna miss you,” she admits, her voice shaking.

Hunter rubs his nose, sniffling quietly. He exhales sharply in an attempt to regain his composure and points at Jemma with both hands. “Hey. You never know!”

Jemma chuckles, reaching for her cheek to catch a tear that has escaped her eyes. She nods. “You never know!”

She glances at Radcliffe and gestures with her head in the direction where the Scottish scientist and Leo are standing, still talking quietly. “Keep an eye on Radcliffe. I’ll never fully trust him.”

Hunter turns his head briefly to look at where she’s pointing, before returning his focus to Jemma. “Will do. And I think your avatar and our man Leo there will help me with it… you know, those few times when you’re not busy snogging each other’s faces off.”

Jemma laughs out loud. “You’re impossible.”

Hunter shrugs, grinning mischievously. “Yes I am. I don’t exist. _That’s_ how impossible I am!”

They both laugh, but Jemma stops when she notices Leo slowly walking closer, his eyes fixed on her.

Hunter follows her gaze. He smiles knowingly. “His turn,” he says, tilting his head in Leo’s direction, before pulling Jemma into a hug. He slaps her back with his flat hand before breaking their embrace. “I’ll see you….rrrr-avatar!” he adds, winking one eye, before stepping away.

Jemma lifts her chin in a final goodbye gestures, watching Hunter head over to where Daisy and Trip are standing only a few feet away, before turning her head to look at Leo, who’s waiting in front of her with his hands in his pockets and his head slightly tilted to one side.

Leo shrugs his shoulders, a smile playing on his lips. “I guess this is it?”

Jemma sighs. “The beginning of the end.”

He tilts his head to the other side. “And yet also a new beginning.”

Leo takes a step closer and grabs one of her hands. Jemma mirrors his action, reaching for his free hand, allowing their fingers to intertwine as his blue eyes beam down at her.

She smiles. “And a journey home.”

“You know we can hear you, right? You lovesick sapsacks!”

Jemma and Leo laugh out loud, turning their heads in the direction of the interruptor. “Hunter!” they exclaim in unison.

Hunter pushes his lower lip forward and apologetically raises his hands, taking a step back.

Jemma looks back at Leo, allowing the world around them to disappear for another moment.

“You’ll use The Recollector?” she asks quietly.

Leo nods, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Yep.”

Jemma places the palm of her hand against his cheek, feeling his stubble against her skin. “I’ll see you soon!”

Leo leans down and kisses her. He nods, without saying a word, just a warm smile playing on his lips.

Jemma takes a deep breath, feeling her eyes fill with tears and her heart rate rise in anticipation of leaving this world behind with the constant worry that things could still go wrong, that this could be the last time she sees him alive.

But Leo keeps smiling. “I’ll see you soon—” he repeats, before adding, “back home!”

The corners of Jemma’s mouth quirk up and she nods.

She turns her head slightly in Daisy’s direction. “I think it’s time, Daisy.”

Daisy nods and they both walk over to where the backdoor is programmed.

Jemma takes another look at the people in the room whose eyes are fixed on her and Daisy; smiles and a hint of sadness lingering in everyone’s expressions.

Jemma exhales sharply. She looks at Daisy and nods, encouraging her to activate the backdoor.

Daisy places her hand on the panel and her imprint lights up green.

* * *

Hunter watches as the glowing green handprint goes dark and the panel disappears, leaving only the familiar brick wall behind.

He looks side to side at the people around him and shrugs. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” Leo nods, keeping his eyes fixed on Jemma, who’s smiling shyly back at him.

Hunter purses his lips. “Huh. I expected something more… impressive.”

Trip slaps him on his back. “Don’t you always?”

Hunter laughs out loud, bending slightly backwards before straightening up and rubbing his hands together. “Alright, I say pizza and poker to celebrate!”

His suggestion is enthusiastically welcomed by most people in the room, and immediately Hunter, Daisy, and Trip start heading for the kitchen, while Director Hand raises her eyebrows and shakes her head slightly, before exiting through the door, very much back-to-business.

Leo smiles at Hunter’s enthusiasm, but when his eyes once again land on Jemma, he intuitively mirrors her knowing smile.

“Hold on, Hunter,” Leo exclaims, causing the Brit, Daisy, and Trip to turn back around. “There’s something I have to do first.”

* * *

* * *

Leo notices that his hands are shaking slightly when he places the headpiece of The Recollector onto his own head. He exhales a shaky breath and leans back in his chair, his eyes glancing to where Jemma is standing next to him.

_Well, her avatar, but then, there wasn’t really any difference anymore, was there?_

She had Jemma’s memories, _all_ her memories, real world and what she had experienced in the Framework after logging in. Aside from the fact that _this_ Jemma was entirely programmed, her avatar was the same person Jemma had been.

She looks reassuringly at him, before squinting her eyes in Holden’s direction, who’s standing next to Leo’s laptop, getting the program of the memory machine ready. “Are you sure you don’t want Koenig to do this?” she growls quietly through her teeth.

Leo can’t help but smile. “Holden knows the machine almost as well as I do. No offense to Koenig, but I’d rather do this _now_ than explain the procedure to Koenig for twenty minutes.”

Jemma’s glances in Holden’s direction, exhaling through her nose, her nostrils flaring. “I still don’t trust him. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to.”

Leo reaches for her arm, squeezing it gently. “Then trust _me_.”

A smile flashes across her face. She sighs and nods. “Alright.”

“I’m ready, Holden.”

“Very well, Leo,” Holden replies, his breath noticeably nervous. “I know I don’t have to tell you this, since you invented this device, but, close your eyes, relax, allow the memories to flood in, try to keep your breathing steady.”

Leo inhales slowly and closes his eyes. The corners of his mouth quirk up when he feels Jemma’s hand grabbing a hold of his, squeezing it reassuringly.

* * *

“The process is completed.” Holden’s voice sounds strangely distant, almost like an echo.

Leo opens his eyes. He feels dizzy and his mind is racing, still seemingly trying to re-organize and store away Fitz’s memories.

Leo looks up, when Jemma squeezes his hand more tightly. “How are you feeling?”

A smile flashes across Leo’s face and he shakes his head. “It’s a bit weird.”

“I… I’ll leave you two alone,” Holden mutters quietly.

Leo notices Jemma’s jaw tighten as soon as Holden’s voice pipes up. He smiles and nods into the direction of his old friend and mentor. “Thank you, Holden.”

Once Holden has closed the door behind him, Leo gently tucks on Jemma hand. “Come here,” he says quietly.

Jemma smiles and sits down on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. “You’re a _much_ bigger person than I am, Leopold Fitz.”

“I wouldn’t call an eight-centimeter height difference ‘much.’”

Jemma laughs out loud, burying her face in the nook of his neck for a moment, before looking back at him. “So… it’s weird you say?”

Leo nods. “It’s… well, when _you_ , well, _Jemma_ logged into the Framework from the _real_ world, her, well now _your_ memories _completely_ replaced whatever Jemma’s avatar had been programmed with, but for _me…_ The memory machine doesn’t _replace_ memories created in this world with real-life memories, it just… it just adds them.”

“So now you have _two_ sets of memories?”

Leo shrugs. “ _Exactly!_ I have… I have _two_ memories of my tenth birthday that _couldn’t_ be more different and… and yet, there… there’s a kind of hierarchy.”

“What do you mean?”

Leo squints his eyes. “Like… _my_ memories, _Leo’s_ memories, they’re… they seem to be _primary_ , the go-to memory, whereas Fitz’s memories are _there_ but… but more in the background.”

He shakes his head. “It’s weird, but, not as confusing as I thought.”

“So, who are you now? Leo or Fitz?” There’s a hint of a nervous tremble in her question.

Leo can’t help but smile. “I’m Leo if that’s alright with you.”

Jemma chuckles. “Of course it is.”

Leo takes a deep breath, his thumb absentmindedly gliding up and down Jemma’s back. “You know, having his memories… it explains a lot actually.”

Jemma smiles curiously. “It does?”

Leo nods. “Yeah, like why I have this fucked up crazy fear of drowning.”

A hint of sadness flashes across Jemma’s face as the corner of her mouth twitches briefly and her eyes flutter.

Leo pulls his arms a bit tighter around her waist and smiles widely. “Or my impulse buy of a cottage in Perthshire two years ago.”

Jemma laughs out loud. “You own a cottage in _Perthshire_?”

Leo chuckles and nods as confirmation. “Yeah. Saw it when I was visiting my folks and we went on a little day trip, and… somehow, I had to buy it.” He pauses, gazing into her sparkling brown eyes. “Now I know why.”

He sighs. “We should go there sometimes.”

Jemma’s lips pull into a wide smile and she kisses him softly. “That would be quite lovely.”

Leo inhales slowly, savoring the lingering sensation of her lips on his. “What do you say? Time for pizza and poker?”

Jemma chuckles. “I’m surprised Hunter hasn’t stormed in here yet to see how much longer it’ll be.”

* * *

* * *

“It’s not looking good for the American crowd, if I may say so,” Hunter remarks, grinning smugly as he pulls the chips he’d just won to his side of the table.

Trip’s, Daisy’s, Koenig’s and Jeffrey’s stacks do looking rather meek, compared to Hunter’s, and yet Leo can’t help but laugh out loud.

“Well, London isn’t looking too good compared to Glasgow either!” Triumphantly, Leo leans back in his chair, gesturing at his current chip reservoir, before crossing his arms in front of his chest.

Hunter scoffs in fake protest. “Is that how you treat a friend who’s helping you get back to the real world, mate? I’m disappointed.”

Jemma chuckles. She leans forward from where she’s standing behind Leo, one hand holding on to his shoulder. She grabs his beer and takes a sip.

Leo looks up. “Thief!”

“Shush,” Jemma replies, her eyes sparkling mischievously. She leans down and places a quick kiss to Leo’s lips.

“How about we move on to the next round?” Jeffrey suggests, grabbing the cards and shuffling them.

Hunter points at Leo, furrowing his eyebrows challengingly. “I’m not willing to throw in the towel quite yet, William Wallace!”

Leo laughs, squinting his eyes, when suddenly his head begins to spin.

He gasps, opening his eyes, but the strange sensation persists, as realities mix and images flash before his eyes.

Leo tries to catch his breath, looking up at Jemma. “I think it’s time,” he mumbles quietly.

“Say hi to our American hacker-double-agent and our English Rose from the real world, will ‘ya?”

Leo looks over to where Hunter is sitting, his mouth pulled into a one-sided smile. He can’t help but smile himself, letting his eyes wander from person to person, until they land back on Jemma.

A smile lingers on her lips and she squeezes his shoulder gently. “Time to go home, Fitz.”

Leo lets out a quiet laugh. His hand instinctively reaches for Jemma’s on his right shoulder.

He feels a sting just below his left collarbone and draws in a sharp breath through his teeth at the sudden pain.

Another image appears in front of him, hits him like a lightning bolt.

He closes his eyes.

And the world around him goes black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with this we conclude the Framework arc of this fic! (And BEFORE the new episode aired! WOOOHOOOOOO!!... well, except for those lucky ones who saw it at WonderCon ;) )
> 
> I know the current chapter count suggests that there'll be _two_ more chapters, but honestly, I have so much planned for the non-epilogue chapter that I have a feeling I'll split it into two or even three chapters... yes, probably three... not entirely ruling out four, but probably three. ... So total chapter count including epilogue will be somewhere around 18-19 *headdesk* Yep, I'm definitely running out of lyrics to use as chapter titles.


	15. ‘Cause I need freedom now

_I’m not willing to throw in the towel quite yet, William Wallace!_

Fitz hears himself laugh. Like a faint echo.

There’s a finger pointed at him, a face grinning mischievously. Hunter.

Fitz feels his eyes flutter. Light shining in. But not enough to recognize actual shapes.

 _How much longer, Daisy?_ Jemma’s voice is faint, muffled, anxious.

So is Daisy’s reply. _It’s at ninety percent!_

 _I think it’s time_ , Fitz hears his own voice, but his lips don’t seem to be moving.

 _We need to get them out!_ Jemma’s tone echoes in his head, full of fear, urgency.

 _Say hi to our American hacker-double-agent and our English Rose from the real world, will ‘ya?_ There he is again. Hunter.

Fitz moves his head. Trip. Daisy. Koenig. Mace.

Jemma! She’s standing right next to him, squeezing his shoulder. She smiles.

_Time to go home, Fitz._

Fitz reaches for his shoulder to where he thinks he still sees a ghostly shimmer of Jemma’s hand. He feels a sting just below his left collarbone.

 _Hundred percent_ , Daisy’s muted voice calls out faintly.

Fitz’s eyes flutter open. Flutter shut. Flashes of images. Like lightening bolts.

 _Get them out! **Now!**_ Jemma’s voice exclaims authoritatively.

Fitz feels something being ripped off his head.

His eyes shoot open.

And the world around him becomes bright and hectic.

His head is swimming. Senses overloaded with sounds, sights, sensations.

He sees Jemma blurry before his eyes, feels her frantic fingers touching his face.

His tired hand slides off from where he had placed it on his shoulder. His mouth feels dry and he groggily wets his lips.

“Jemma!” He’s not even sure if he says it out loud, but through his foggy mind he sees her smile.

Then he feels her lips against his, pressed together tightly like a seal for a moment; then short little pecks, urgent, desperate, but also joyful.

He tries to get his lips to move, to respond, kiss her back, but his body doesn’t comply, his head still spinning, every muscle weak.

“You’re home, Fitz. You’re home!” She presses her cheek against his and he feels her tears on his skin; her shaky breath echoing in his ears as she cries into his shoulder.

He tries to hug her, but can barely raise his hands high enough to brush against the waistband of her trousers before his arms drop back down to dangle by his side.

“Jemma.” At least his voice complies, no matter how softly.

She lets go off him and Fitz watches her through a daze as she grabs his right hand with trembling hands. He feels a sting when she removes the I.V.

“Try not to move yet. Your legs will give out right from under you. Let the sedative wear off a bit more.”

Her fingers move from his hand to his left collarbone. He glances down, noticing the subclavian vein catheter, realizing what the pain had been he’d felt there when Leo had reached for Jemma’s hand.

Leo. It’s a faint memory. Images, sounds, sensations, experiences from the Framework slowly finding their place in Fitz’s mind.

Fitz flinches when Jemma pulls out the catheter. She presses some gauze against the small injection site to stop any bleeding and Fitz notices the slight tremor of her hands. Her eyes are fixed on the insignificant wound and she wrinkles her forehead in concentration. Fitz sees tears in her eyes as the fog slowly begins to lift from his mind.

“Y-you call that soon?” His voice sounds hoarse and strained.

Jemma’s head shoots up as if she weren’t sure she’d heard correctly.

“It’s been like six hours!” Fitz adds sleepily, pulling one corner of his mouth up.

A smile flashes across her face and her teary eyes sparkle a little brighter. She presses one palm against his cheek. “Well, it’s only been three _here_ as you know and—” She shrugs. “We were a _tad_ busy fighting our way through to your location.” Her smile looks forced and pained, but her eyes emanate her relief. “What were _you_ up to over there?”

Fitz scoffs quietly, not enough energy to chuckle. “Beating Hunter at p-poker. He says hi.”

Jemma laughs barely audibly, while her thumb caresses the soft skin below his eyes. She sighs, her voice soft and gentle when she speaks. “You _do_ know that my answer is yes, right?”

Fitz blinks, his mind still slow and foggy from the effects of the sedative. “Wha—?”

A smile flashes across her face. “You’ve thought about marriage and I… I’ve done too.”

A weak but happy wave of laughter bubbles to the surfaces, breaks through his tired mind. “Fuck, right.” He has to pause to catch his breath. “Can’t believe the damn robot stole my proposal!”

There’s a shimmer of tears in Jemma’s eyes, but not strong enough to drown out her joy. Her hand is still pressed against his face as if determined to never lose physical contact with him again. “I’m almost glad it did. Took you ten years to admit how you felt about me. God knows how long it would have taken you to propose.”

Fitz laughs. Louder this time. His body aches from weeks of motionlessness. But he doesn’t care. He gazes at her. _Her_. Jemma. Her body and mind united. Real!

Suddenly, just looking at her doesn’t seem enough.

He needs to hold her, feel her, know that it’s true, that it’s real.

Fitz takes a step forward, wanting to wrap his arms around her. He stumbles as he steps into thin air instead of the floor, his brain catching up too late that he’d been standing on a slight latch.

Jemma does her best to catch him, but buckles somewhat under his sudden weight, flinching in pain. A memory flashes in front of Fitz’s eyes: a distraught Jemma yelling at him… well, Leo and Hunter.

_You didn’t have to watch him turn from the man you love to a cold-hearted machine that stabbed you and knocked you unconscious with a bloody paint can._

Fitz feels his stomach tighten at the thought; feels his jaw clench when he notices the faint remains of a bruise on her forehead, how she’s barely putting weight on her right leg.

He straightens up, placing one arm around Jemma’s shoulders for support, but trying to relieve her as much as he can from his weight. He’s dizzy, his eyes blinking, small flashing lights distorting his view.

Jemma’s hand is pressed against his chest, her other arm wrapped around his waist. “I told you to wait.”

Slowly their unsteady swaying subsides, but Fitz’s legs still feel like pudding. “And I thought being in a coma for nine days did a number on my legs.”

“Well, if you’d just listened to me for a change, then you—”

“Grizzly Adams overestimating his current physical abilities, too? ‘Cause the others sure are. Stubborn bunch!”

Fitz turns his head in Daisy’s direction. She’s smiling at him, and his lips pull into a shy smile as well.

“Yes. Stubborn man that one!” Jemma remarks, acting disgruntled, while still keeping Fitz’s wobbly body steady.

Daisy stops in front of Fitz and for a moment they just stare at each other, their lips twitching nervously. Then Daisy shifts, moves her arms, and Fitz lets go off Jemma’s shoulders, allowing Daisy to pull him into a hug instead.

He feels a sudden tremor rush through his body. Surprised, he leans back, his arms still halfway around Daisy’s shoulders, who’d hooked her arms under his. “What the hell was that all about?”

“Jemma can explain it to you later.” Daisy gestures at Jemma with her head, a knowing and relieved smile playing on both women’s lips.

Jemma reaches for his hand, intertwining her fingers with his, and covering their interlaced hands with her free one. Fitz looks down, savoring the sensation of feeling her skin against his.

Finally, he takes a moment to look around the room. Mack is sitting on a chair, his head hanging low, his forearms resting weakly on his knees. Elena is standing next to him, her hand on his back, stroking it gently.

Fitz notices May on a gurney, Agent Crawford providing medical care for her with another agent. Coulson waits next to them, a helpless look on his scruffy face. “How’s May?” Fitz asks quietly.

“She’ll be alright,” Jemma replies reassuringly without giving any more detail.

Fitz can feel his heart hammering anxiously in his chest. “Mace?”

Jemma’s eyes drop to the floor, while Daisy draws in a slow breath before replying. “We found his body in another room. Kinda Frankenstein’s lab. Looked like he already died a few days ago. We think Aida was going to turn him into some kind of robo-human hybrid like Ivanov, but maybe the fact that his brain was dead complicated matters for her or something.”

“Looks like he made the right decision. Deciding to stay in the Framework.” Jemma squeezes Fitz’s hand more tightly. He knows she’s trying to reassure him, but Daisy’s word nonetheless make his stomach turn and his breathing quicken.

“What about Radcliffe?” Fitz stares at the floor, unable to look at either of them right now.

“AIDA basically put his body in formalin.” Jemma says quietly.

“The room looks like a shrine,” Daisy adds. “Glass coffin. Flowers. Candles. It’s… it’s creepy as fuck but I guess she felt like she owed him that kind of respect or something.”

Fitz closes his eyes, noticing a faint ringing in his ears. He exhales a shaky breath, feeling his stomach muscles tighten. Swallowing hard, he forces himself to look up at Jemma and Daisy.

“What about Ivanov? And… and Aida? and—” Fitz’s voice is panicked and hurried. He reaches for his neck with his free hand, rubbing it nervously.

Daisy places her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Fitz, don’t worry about it. It’s over.”

Fitz closes his eyes, shaking his head in defeat. It doesn’t feel over.

“What did Coulson say?” Jemma pipes up.

Daisy crosses her arms in front of her chest. “Well, he’s still a bit out of it himself, of course, so he’s not willing _or_ able to make a decision right now. Left it up to me. I say, we’ll leave it running for now. The exit protocol sealed the code. Nobody’s minds can be plugged in. Nobody can make changes. That’s a good start. Until we can figure out a way to move the main server without interrupting power supplies, it stays here and we put as many guards up as we can until we can lock it up securely. I’m talking Fridge- and Guest House-level security. Well, _better_ than that, actually, ‘cause we _all_ know what happened there.”

“Well, it sounds like a promising plan.” A weak smile flashes across Jemma’s face and Fitz tries to mirror it, his appreciation for everything they’d done to save them mixing with the guilt of having to be rescued at all.

“I don’t know about you, guys, but I’m ready to say goodbye to this fucked up place… and, don’t tell that to the agents I’m gonna assign to stay here.” Daisy points at both of them, grinning awkwardly.

Jemma tilts her head slightly to one side. “Well, they’ve been trained for such things.” She pauses for a moment. “And I second your suggestions.”

Jemma looks up at Fitz, smiling shyly. “Let’s go home, shall we?”

Fitz pulls one corner of his mouth up and nods.

Daisy turns around to face the back of the room, clapping her hands together. “Alright guys. Everyone pack up here. We’re going home!”

Fitz watches as the people in the room become more mobile. Crawford and her assistant pack up their medical supplies and push May’s gurney towards the door, while Coulson follows quietly, his hand resting on May’s arm. Daisy walks over to where Piper and Prince are standing, weapons shouldered, talking to them quietly. He sees Elena helping Mack up from where he’d been sitting. Mack’s movements are slow and heavy. His arm is draped around Elena’s shoulders.

Fitz feels a sting in his heart when Mack’s eyes land on him. They’re cold, angry, almost hostile.

_You better stay out of my eyesight for now._

Fitz blinks, his vision blurred by a thin curtain of tears. He looks down when Jemma gently squeezes his hand. Her reassuring smile is barely noticeable, but her eyes seem to be telling him, _It’s not your fault. Give him time_.

Quickly, Fitz reaches for his cheek to catch a single tear that had managed to escape.

The corners of his mouth twitch slightly. “Let’s go home,” he says barely above a whisper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, how'd you like the first non-Framework chapter? Thank so much for sticking with me and this fic.


	16. I will hold on hope (and I won’t let you choke)

They had taken off from the base in Russia about three hours earlier. Daisy had put herself in charge. It seemed strange that she was starting to feel quite comfortable in a leadership role, maybe even enjoyed it a little.

They had created a small makeshift infirmary in the Zephyr’s lab. Agent Crawford had taken May straight there. May was stable, but definitely in bad shape; unsurprisingly worst of all the hostages since she’d spent the most time in the Framework.

Coulson had been reluctant to leave May, but at the same time, he’d demanded a full report and update on what had occurred. Daisy had talked with him for more than two hours, before ordering him to take care of himself.

_No offense, Coulson, but you stink! Get a shower, get a shave, get some food, get some rest._

Coulson promised he’d do it as soon as he’d had a chance to pay another quick visit to May. Daisy had rolled her eyes.

_Quick visit. Yeah right!_

Then Daisy had checked up on Elena and Mack. She’d only found Elena in one of the small bunks on the plane, Mack having decided to make use of the Zephyr’s sanitary facilities to try and clear his mind in the shower, get a shave.

Elena had looked serious, full of concern. She said that Mack had tried to put on a stern, brave face, but couldn’t hide the fact that he was still struggling with the fact that he had left his daughter behind in the Framework. Daisy’s heart broke at the thought.

She’d waited until Mack showed up, but it was clear that Mack wasn’t ready to be around anyone but Elena for the time being, so Daisy had excused herself, saying she’d wanted to check on Jemma and Fitz.

Daisy had noticed how Mack had clenched his jaw at Fitz’s mention. Part of her had wanted to say something, but deep down she knew that _now_ wasn’t the time.

* * *

She finds Fitz sitting next to Jemma, who seems to be deeply asleep on the second gurney in the little makeshift infirmary. He’s holding a tablet in one hand, the other resting on Jemma’s arm. As far as Daisy can tell, they’d maintained some kind of physical contact since the moment Jemma had set foot into the room where AIDA had kept the hostages.

He’s blinking rapidly, staring at the small screen, and when she steps closer, Daisy notices a shimmer of tears in his eyes.

Daisy clears her throat to make her presence known, and Fitz’s head shoots up in surprise.

One corner of Daisy’s mouth quirks up. “Hey, Robinson Crusoe.”

Fitz draws in a slow breath, forcing a smile. “Hey.”

Daisy gestures at Jemma’s immobile body with her head. “That seems like a fucking miracle.”

A weak chuckle escapes Fitz’s lips and he glances over at Jemma. “Took some convincing but she let Agent Crawford give her a sedative.”

He lifts his chin and Daisy turns around to notice the petite scientist who’s standing next to May’s bed.

“Crawford?” Daisy addresses her colleague and the agent turns around. “Convincing Jemma Simmons to take a sedative and get some rest? If I had the power, I’d give you a raise.”

“Yes, well,” Crawford says quietly. “We pumped her full of antibiotics while she was in the Framework to ensure that the stab wound in her leg wouldn’t get infected, so all in all she was in good shape all things considered. But she overdid it during the rescue mission. Currently, I’m the agent with the most medical experience on this plane, so… well, I just… basically, I told her doctor’s orders and she accepted that… eventually.”

“Yeah, well, nice job, Crawford,” Daisy replies.

Crawford smiles shyly, before leaving the room, clipboard in hand.

Daisy looks back at Fitz, catching him with his eyes fixed on Jemma’s right leg, his expression thoughtful and full of concern.

He looks up when he notices Daisy, sighing deeply. His thumb gentle rubs up and down Jemma’s arm. “Our bodies were basically in sleep mode for weeks. And even our minds… I mean, our avatars went to bed, slept, so our minds got rest… but… but she didn’t, she must have been practically awake the whole time, couldn’t sleep, had nightmares. She told me… _him_.”

Fitz puts the tablet he’d been holding down on his lap to wipe his eyes with the heel of his hand without having to let go of Jemma’s arm with his other. Absentmindedly, he grabs the tablet again so it doesn’t slide off his legs, while his head turns to look at Jemma’s sleeping face.

Daisy’s lips twitch briefly, wanting to say something in return, when her eyes catch a glimpse of the still image on his tablet’s screen. His hands in the picture are raised, his body slightly hunched forward, his back turned to the camera. Jemma is standing across from him, pointing a gun at his chest.

Daisy gasps. “Fitz, don’t!”

Surprised, Fitz looks up. When he notices what Daisy’s staring at, his gaze briefly falls to the tablet in his lap, before his eyes focus back on her. “I have to, Daisy. I have to know what she went through, what I… what I did to her.”

His eyes shimmer sadly behind a thin curtain of tears.

Daisy takes a step closer. “ _You_ didn’t do anything, Fitz! _That_ wasn’t you! And Jemma would be the _first_ to tell you that!”

“I helped created the tech—”

“ _You_ didn’t twist it into these fucked-up versions that Radcliffe and AIDA created!”

“If they hadn’t taken me.”

“They took five people, Fitz! _Five_!” Daisy waves her hand to the side. “They took May! A woman who once took down an entire special forces team under the spell of a crazy Inhuman kid! And Radcliffe and AIDA took her and switched her!”

Fitz gestures at himself, tears in his eyes. “It had my mind, Daisy. It had _my_ mind and still it—” He breaks off, his chest heaving up and down. “One way or another, _I’m_ responsible for this, Daisy. _I_ did it to her. How can she even _look_ at me? How can she even _be_ with me? _Trust_ me?”

He covers his eyes with one hand, his body shuddering with sobs, while his other hand desperately maintains contact with Jemma’s arm.

Daisy takes a step closer. She grabs the tablet on Fitz’s lap, which is dangerously close to falling to the ground and places it on the closest lab bench, before turning back to stand next to Fitz.

She puts her hand on his shoulder. “Hey,” she says calmly. “Look at me, Fitz!”

His hand trembles when he uncovers his eyes and looks up at her, his cheeks glistening with streams of tears.

Daisy fixes her eyes on his, squeezing his shoulder gently. “Something like a year ago, I threw your body against a wall and almost _choked_ you to death with my powers, Fitz.”

Daisy feels her throat tighten, notices Fitz’s face becoming blurry before her tear-filled eyes. “And today? Today you let me pull you into a hug and when I quaked you, you didn’t even let go of me. You just leaned back and said ‘What the hell was that about?’ in the fucking calmest way possible.”

A weak smile flashes across Fitz’s face, and encourages Daisy to continue. “A year ago, I almost _killed_ you Fitz! And here you are, _still_ trusting me!”

He blinks rapidly, his chin quivering. “You weren’t yourself. You were under Hive’s spell.”

Daisy nods, squeezing his shoulder tighter. “Yeah, I _was_ under Hive’s spell. I was _twisted_. I was _swayed_. I was _brainwashed_. And that was the _only_ reason why I hurt you, Fitz. ‘Cause I could never, _never_ hurt you! And that LMD, Fitz? Maybe that LMD had _your_ mind but it was a fucked-up twisted, brainwashed version of your mind. It had been _manipulated_. It had been _swayed_ to do what AIDA and Radcliffe wanted it to. What that video shows, Fitz, _wasn’t_ you!”

Fitz’s eyes wander to where the tablet is lying on the lab bench, sniffling quietly.

“Fitz. Don’t!” Daisy leans closer, trying to block his line of sight and get him to focus on her instead of the paused video. “Don’t dwell on the past. Don’t focus on the what ifs.”

She gestures at herself. “ _I’ve_ done that! I did that after what I did to _you_ , to _Andrew_ , to… to _Lincoln_. I let the guilt eat me up and… and it didn’t do me much good.”

Fitz chuckles quietly, knowing full well that what she’d said was a huge understatement. He draws in a slow breath. “I have to watch it, Daisy.” Daisy finds his voice surprisingly calm.

She scoffs. “Fitz—”

“Not to dwell on it,” he interrupts her. “But… I… I got off easy. I didn’t experience _any_ of the pain, of the agony and bloodshed and… and battle scars that you guys went through.”

He gestures at himself. “I _need_ to know so I… so I can maybe at least _understand_ what she went through, so I know how to react when she—” His voice breaks and he swallows hard as his eyes fill with tears again. “She’s going to go through it again, Daisy. Post traumatic stress.”

He clenches his jaw, his lips pressed into a thin line, trying to catch his breath. “She’s scared, Daisy. She told me… she told _him_. She’s scared that she’s not strong enough to make it through that again and I _know_ she is, I _know_ she is, but I… I still need to help her. She needs to be able to _rely_ on me and I… I _have_ to know.”

Fitz looks at Daisy in anguish, desperation, pleadingly. Tears stream down his face, and Daisy can’t help but cup his cheek and wipe them away with her thumb.

“Fine. I won’t stop you from watching it,” she says quietly. “But I’m gonna repeat: That _wasn’t_ you. And you may have helped in creating the first and original AIDA, but you did _not_ create whatever crazy shit robots Radcliffe and her built after that! Jemma _can_ rely on you, Fitz. And she _knows_ that!”

His gaze drifts off to where Jemma is sleeping and he nods silently.

Daisy gestures over her shoulder with her thumb. “Okay, gonna check on Davis; see where we’re at, ETA and all that.”

She turns around to leave the infirmary when the sound of her name lets her stop.

She turns back halfway to look at Fitz. “Yes?”

There’s a nervousness about his expression, one corner of his mouth ticked up barely noticeably. “Could I talk to you about one more thing?”

Daisy purses her lips. “Ohhh-kay. Sure.”

He rubs the back of his neck with one hand. “I… I could use your help with something. It’s… it’s an idea.” He sighs. “You might not like it.”

Daisy raises her eyebrows in confusion, but decides to let him explain.

Fitz shrugs slightly “It’s just… I thought… maybe—” He clears his throat. “I know the Framework code is locked. You can’t make changes to it. You can’t plug anyone in, and that’s… that’s good, of course, but—”

He exhales sharply, gesturing towards nowhere in particular. “But the code is still _there_ , floating around and… well, I was thinking of finding a way to maybe translate the code into a visual representation; access one of the avatar’s visual input data and—”

Fitz scratches his throat, seemingly struggling between trying to focus on Daisy and trying to avoid her eyes. “Sort of like a TV program. You know, so that people could check in on… I don’t know… see how—”

“You’re thinking about Mack.”

Fitz sighs deeply and nods. “I just—” He shrugs. “I know he’s angry and grieving and he has _every_ right to and I’m not _delusional_ , I know I can’t fix this—” He waves one hand to the side. “— _ever_ , and maybe he’ll hate me forever, but maybe… maybe not _now_ , but maybe at _some_ point it’ll help him… seeing her… seeing her through his eyes.”

“Hey!” Daisy can’t help but smile. She takes a step closer to Fitz again. “ _First_ of all, _yes_ , I’ll help you. _Second_ of all, _yes_ , you’re right, probably not _now_ , but maybe later it’ll help him.”

Once again, she places her hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently. “And _lastly_ , Mack _doesn’t_ hate you and he won’t give you the cold shoulder forever!”

Fitz’s eyes shimmer sadly as he gestures at himself. “ _I_ took her from him, Daisy! He’s reliving the pain of losing his daughter because of something _I_ created.”

“Dude! How many times do I have to repeat myself?” Daisy gives his shoulder a little shake. “ _You_ didn’t create the Framework! Not like _that_! _You_ weren’t forcing people to log in against their will. _You_ weren’t meddling with people’s memories. That was Radcliffe and AIDA!”

She leans closer, looking directly into his sad, blue eyes. “Yes, Mack’s hurting. _Big_ time! And _right now_ he’s directing that anger at you because—” She shrugs. “Because he _needs_ someone to blame and the two _fucking_ idiots responsible for this shit we’ve been through are dead and destroyed, and _you’re_ the closest thing to a scapegoat he has.”

Fitz closes his eyes, a tear rolling down his cheek.

“He’s been out for like three hours, Fitz. He’s hurt. He’s angry. He’ll need time, just like you said. _But_ —” Daisy squeezes his shoulder a little tighter, and reluctantly Fitz looks up. “Fitz, _I_ tried to kill him! Mack stood in front of me, _unarmed_ , and I _quaked_ him, broke his bones one by one, crushed his lungs, and he _never_ fought back.”

She feels tears creeping to the surface, but continues with determination. “And when I _blamed_ myself, Fitz, and I _hated_ myself for what I’d done to all of you, Mack came to me and told me ‘I forgive you.’ And I tried to push him away, because I felt like I didn’t deserve it and he had none of it. He forgave me when I _definitely_ couldn’t forgive myself.”

She allows her words to sink in before she speaks up again. “Mack may be angry now. He may blame you now. But he knows, Fitz! He _knows_ that this wasn’t your fault. That this isn’t what you wanted! That you would _never_ want _anything_ like that! And he _will_ forgive you!”

Fitz sniffles, scrunching his nose, before looking up at Daisy. “You know, Jemma gave me a very similar speech” He scoffs “ _Twice_ actually.”

Daisy lets out a quiet laugh. “Well then, how ‘bout you try to believe us.”

He nods ever so slightly. “I’ll try.”

Daisy squeezes his shoulder one last time, before letting go and turning around once again to head out the door.

“Daisy?”

She turns back, raising her eyebrows in fake protest. “Dude. _Seriously_? Trying to work here.”

Fitz chuckles briefly before his expression grows more serious again. “Did Mack say anything? When you went to see him that morning? About why… why he decided to come back?”

Daisy shakes her head and shrugs. “No. He didn’t say much at all. Just that he wanted to log out.”

Fitz purses his lips, nodding slightly.

“We didn’t force him, Fitz. Leaving the Framework was _his_ decision,” Daisy tries to reassure him. “And he made that decision after _you_ talked to him, after _you_ had restored his memories.”

“That was Leo.” His voice is barely above a whisper.

“That was _you_.” Daisy takes a deep breath. “Leo was _you_ in so many ways, and the part of him that talked to Mack, that was _you_!”

Fitz scoffs quietly. “You weren’t there.”

Daisy shrugs. “Didn’t have to. I just know. _You_ got through to him, Fitz. So he might be hurting, but he definitely, _definitely_ doesn’t hate you and he’s definitely, _definitely_ gonna come around.”

A weak smile flashes across Fitz’s face and he nods, but there’s still a hint of doubt in his eyes.

* * *

* * *

They’d been in the air for close to seven hours now. Daisy had stopped by again maybe forty-five minutes ago to update Coulson and Fitz on their ETA and bring them some water.

_How many times do I have to stop by here and tell the two of you to get some rest? You look like shit. Admittedly, Coulson, at least you’re clean and well-groomed shit now, but Fitz, seriously dude, big, hairy, smelly ball of shit._

Fitz had chuckled weakly, but it hadn’t changed the fact that he had no intentions of leaving Jemma’s side.

* * *

Fitz looks over to where Coulson is sitting next to May’s bed. His hand is resting on May’s arm, much like Fitz’s laying on Jemma’s. But Coulson’s head is drooped forward and Fitz can hear his superior snore quietly.

Fitz’s eyelids are heavy, but he’s determined to stay awake. He looks at Jemma. The sedative Agent Crawford had administered should be wearing off soon, but she’s still deeply asleep, her body only occasionally twitching and shuddering as she dreams. Every time she moves, Fitz feels his body tense up as he imagines the nightmares haunting her. His thumb glides up and down her arm, trying to soothe her mind.

“Hey Turbo.”

Fitz’s head shoots up in surprise at the sound of Mack’s deep, calm voice.

“Mack? I’m—”

Mack gestures at Jemma with his head. “How’s she doing?”

Fitz glances at Jemma, before turning back to face Mack. He shrugs barely noticeably. “I… I don’t know.”

Mack nods ever so slightly. He takes a step closer, looking briefly over his shoulder to ensure Coulson and May are still asleep. “Listen, Turbo, I—” His head drops briefly to the floor and he squints his eyes shut, rubbing his forehead with one hand, before looking back at Fitz. “Leaving… leaving Hope, that was… that was hard.” He clears his throat and Fitz notices Mack’s eyes shimmering sadly. “I know she wasn’t real but—”

Fitz shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the floor, unable to look straight at his friend. “She _was_ , Mack… she was real to you and this world it… it felt real. So _fucking_ real.” He looks up, fighting back tears. “I had a dad there, a _supportive_ dad and he felt _so_ real and I still remember him even though he was nothing like my—” Fitz lets out a shaky breath. “Hope was real, Mack, and I… I can’t even—”

Mack raises both his hands. “Turbo. Let me, please.”

Fitz presses his lips into a thin line, his eyes blinking rapidly trying to hold his tears in check. He nods ever so slightly.

“You guys gave me a choice, Turbo. I could have stayed there, but I knew… I _knew_ that I had to leave, come back here, that _she_ wasn’t real, but Elena _is_!”

Mack looks away for a moment, taking a deep breath, before focusing back on Fitz. “I survived losing her once, Turbo, and I’ll survive it again and, honestly, what you… well, this Leo guy said… you know… that in a way she lives on even if I log out, that… that made the decision a bit easier.”

Fitz stares at his friend, unsure of what to say.

Mack exhales sharply. “Look, Turbo, I know what I said to you… To leave me alone. And I… I was angry—” He shrugs. “Still am, but… yes, you helped designed that thing and it caused a lot of pain but it also gave me a chance to experience what it’s like being a dad, what it’s like having her at all… and that’s something I’ve always wondered about.”

Fitz sighs, his breathing short and shallow, his voice still hiding somewhere in the back of his throat.

“I’m still gonna need time, Turbo. _But_ —” Mack takes a step closer, placing his hand on Fitz’s shoulder, squeezing it gently, and instinctively, Fitz looks up. “I’ll come around,” Mack says, a smile flashing across his face.

Fitz nods ever so slightly, his lips twitching between relief and the lingering guilt he can’t yet shake. He watches Mack turn around and head for the door.

“Mack?”

“Yeah.”

“Daisy talk to you?”

Mack squints his eyes. “Daisy? Nah.” One corner of his mouth quirks up. “But maybe another strong stubborn woman gave me a bit of a nudge.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I already used "I won't let you choke" as part of another chapter title, but it just fit really well here and I couldn't resist the "I will hold on hope" part of the lyrics *sobs silently*
> 
> The next chapter will likely be a longer one (but probably not so long that I'll split it in two) and while I have a whole bunch of notes and some dialogue scribbled down already, it's not really in the works yet. The next two weeks will be busy and I can't promise how quickly I can update. Please stay with me :) Thanks for your patience!


	17. Away from all the fears and all the faults you’ve left behind

When they had first logged out of the Framework, Elena, Piper, Davis, and Prince had told them that they’d re-taken the Playground and that all of the S.H.I.E.L.D. agents stationed there as well as some who had been called in were busy rebuilding their half-destroyed base.

Yet, Daisy and Jemma hadn’t seen the extent of the damage, nor the extent of the repairs. When the Zephyr lands at the base in the early evening, Jemma can’t quite place the emotions running through her body.

She had slept for most of the flight. When she’d woken up half an hour ago, Fitz’s head had been resting on his hands, which in turn were resting on her arm. She’d tried not to move as not to wake him, but he’d jerked up as if struck by lightening when Daisy had come in to announce that they’d be landing soon.

Jemma had wanted to accompany Agent Crawford who was moving May to the infirmary of the base, but Crawford had puffed out her chest, made her petite figure as tall as possible and had told Jemma in no uncertain terms that she was not yet dismissed as a patient herself and would not be allowed to act as a medical doctor to May. Both Fitz, who had one arm wrapped around Jemma’s waist to allow her to put less weight on her recovering leg, and Daisy had barely managed to suppress their chuckles and Jemma had glared at them in mild frustration.

* * *

They’re three of the last people to leave the Zephyr, walking side by side, Fitz’s arm still draped around Jemma for support and she in turn resting her hand on his shoulder, hobbling through the cargo bay of the plane towards the ramp.

Daisy is a few steps ahead of them, when she exclaims, “Holy shit!”

Jemma looks past her, watching numerous agents roam the Playground’s hangar like busy bees. There are piles of rubble everywhere and she catches a glimpse of engineers installing a new blast door.

Suddenly, Jemma’s body stops all forward movement as if an invisible wall had risen in front of her out of thin air. She feels her heart beat frantically in her chest, like a caged animal trying to escape. Her breathing quickens. Her stomach tightens. Her eyes fill with tears. Her hands start to tremble.

“Jemma?”

She hears Fitz’s voice like a faint echo trying to break through the high-pitched ringing in her ears.

Jemma draws in a shaky breath and breaks away from Fitz’s arm, turning around and running to the far end of the Zephyr’s cargo bay as fast as her injured leg will let her, ignoring the pain shooting up her thigh.

She falls to her knees and closes her eyes as a gush of vomit pushes up her esophagus. She coughs, spitting out the bile. Her eyes flutter open and she watches as teardrops mix with the yellow puddle in front of her.

Her whole body is rattled with sobs and she lets out a desperate and angry cry. She sinks to one side when she feels Fitz’s arms wrapping around her, pulling her against his chest.

“I can’t,” Jemma sobs, squinting her eyes shut, her hands frantically trying to grab Fitz’s arms, wanting to cling to him and let him pull her to safety. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.”

She feels him press his cheek against the top of her head, his hand stroking her hair. “Shhhhhhhh.”

“I can’t. I can’t.” Her voice is nothing more than a faint whisper now, and yet, each breath Jemma exhales carries the same words along. “I can’t.”

“What’s going on?” Daisy’s tone is full of concern.

Jemma buries her face in Fitz’s chest, trying to make the world around her disappear.

“She can’t go in. It’s too much.” Jemma can hear the tears Fitz is trying to suppress in the way his voice wavers and shakes.

Jemma doesn’t open her eyes, but she feels Daisy’s hand resting on her back. “Stay here with her. I’ll be right back.”

Jemma hears Daisy’s footsteps disappear in the distance. Slowly, her body grows tired from crying, while her muscles still tremble and her mind still races.

Her fingers clutch his shirt, when Fitz tries to break their embrace. Frantically, she tries to pull herself closer to him again.

His hands reach for her face, carefully, gently. “Look at me, Jemma. Please.”

Reluctantly, Jemma opens her eyes, her chin quivering, tears blurring her vision. But his blue eyes gaze at her, warm and trustful, and the way he cups her face is comforting. There’s a smile playing on his lips, slightly forced and yet encouraging and soothing.

His thumbs gently caress the soft skin below her eyes, wiping away her tears. “Do you remember when we first met?” he asks, his voice calm and soft.

Jemma blinks, her mind in a daze, still recovering from her panic attack.

“Do you remember when we got paired up in chem lab?” He’s still looking straight at her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

Jemma’s lips twitch barely noticeably. Her eyes are still misty, but the ringing in her ears has died down and he mind slowly opens up to listen to Fitz.

“Do you remember when I baked you the most disgusting birthday cake ever created after I destroyed the two-tiered chocolate cake beauty you had made by trying to light the candles with a blowtorch at the lab?”

A weak chuckle escapes Jemma’s lips.

“Do you remember our final project at the Academy before we graduated? How you convinced Weaver that we should test our body-temperature regulating camouflage suits ourselves in the wilderness and I almost had a heart attack ‘cause I was afraid there could be bears? And we saw those northern lights?”

The corners of Jemma’s mouth quirk up briefly as Fitz continues to try and trigger happy memory after happy memory, trying to take her mind on a journey away from the destruction left behind in the Playground.

“Do you remember when we found out that we would go to Sci-Ops together?”

Jemma notices her muscles slowly relax, her face feel less pained, her smile becoming more genuine.

Fitz’s fingers slowly trail down her hairline. “Do you remember our first kiss? And our second?”

His smile grows wider. “And our third? I think our third was my favorite. And the fourth.”

Jemma chuckles quietly.

“Do you remember Bucharest?” Fitz sighs. “’Cause I sure do.”

Jemma lets out a little laugh. She sniffles, nodding ever so slightly.

“Do you remember when we moved into our bunk? Do you know that giving up on Bridget wasn’t hard at all?”

Jemma laughs out loud, her eyes still fixed on his.

"Do you remember when you told me that you'd marry me?"

Jemma nods, smiling widely.

“Do you remember—”

Fitz’s head shoots up and Jemma turns around quickly, when a loud thud interrupts them.

Daisy is standing only a few feet away, a duffle bag lying next to her on the ground.

Slowly, Fitz helps Jemma up. They stare at Daisy in confusion. There’s a shimmer of tears in Daisy’s eyes.

“Elena packed you some extra clothes and I booked you a room at the Crown Gardens. Here—” She stretches out her hand, holding a set of keys. “Take the SUV in the front row.”

Jemma shakes her head. “Daisy, no! We can’t just—”

“Yes!” Daisy interrupts her. “Yes, you can. You fucking can! You take these keys and you get the hell out of here and go to the hotel and you don’t come back until you’re ready!”

“Daisy,” Jemma tries to interject a second time.

“No! Don’t Daisy me! We’ve been through enough shit. _You_ most of all. You’re going to take care of yourself! You’re going to do what you have to do! And if you can’t go into this base right now, then you fucking don’t go into this base right now!”

“Dai—”

“That’s a fucking order, Simmons!”

A weak smile flashes across Jemma’s face and shyly she looks up at Fitz.

One corner of his mouth quirks up and he takes a step forward, stretching out his hand in Daisy’s direction.

Daisy places the keys into his palm, grinning widely.

Then Fitz picks up the duffle bag with the hand holding the keys. He extends his free hand and looks at Jemma without saying a word, smiling reassuringly.

Jemma sighs. She smiles, almost involuntarily, before walking towards Fitz and Daisy, grabbing Fitz’s hand, who squeezes hers gently.

“Let’s go then,” Jemma says barely above a whisper.

* * *

* * *

“Enjoy your stay,” the concierge says politely.

Fitz smiles and nods in return. He grabs the keycard and picks up the duffle bag, before wrapping his arm around Jemma’s waist to help her to the elevator. They ride up to the top floor in silence and walk down the corridor without speaking a word until they reach the door to their room.

Fitz drops the duffle bag to the floor. He lets go of Jemma’s back to open the small booklet containing the keycard with both hands. Instinctively, Jemma’s hand reaches for his arm, still unwilling to lose physical contact with him.

It had been a back and forth. As soon as one had to let go for whatever insignificant reason, the other would establish a new connection no matter how brief or gentle.

Fitz’s hand had been resting on Jemma’s knee for practically the entire drive, except for a few moments when he had needed both hands on the steering wheel. Then Jemma would quickly reach up to touch his shoulder, slide her fingers around the back of his neck, or play with the soft curls on top of his head that had time to grow out just a bit after three weeks in the Framework.

Fitz pushes the keycard into the slot and opens the door. He places his hand on the small of Jemma’s back and gently nudges her inside, while he picks up the bag and follows.

Jemma’s eyes wander around the spacious room and out the window where the city lights are shining brightly and the sun has almost completely set.

She inhales slowly and sighs.

His voice his quiet and his thumb gently rubs up and down her back. “I know this will sound dumb all things considered, but… are you okay?”

Jemma turns to look at him, smiling weakly. “Yes, I’m… I’m—” She shakes her head slightly, lifting her shoulders. “I feel so silly. Not being able to go into the base.”

Lightly, Fitz grabs her shoulders and turns her somewhat so she stands straight in front of him. “Hey. Don’t. You promised me, Jemma… _him_. You promised that you’d tell me what you need! And you _did_! You told me you can’t go in and that’s… that’s _exactly_ what we’re doing. Like Daisy said: as long as we need to. Okay? Don’t question it. It’s the _right_ thing to do! Okay?”

His eyes are pleading with her and Jemma can’t help but smile shyly and nod.

Fitz cups her face, gazing into her eyes until his become slightly blurry in front of her. “What do you need, Jemma?”

One corner of her mouth quirks up briefly and she sighs. “I think I could really need a shower.”

Fitz chuckles, nodding in agreement. “Yeah. Me too.”

He pulls out his wallet and places it on the nightstand, before putting the duffel bag on the bed. He zips it open, letting out a quiet snicker when he peeks inside. He retrieves a small bag and turns back to look at Jemma. “Elena packed my beard trimmer.”

Jemma laughs out loud. “It’s like she’s trying to tell you something.”

Fitz scoffs in fake protest, before encouragingly stretching out his free hand in Jemma’s direction. She takes his hand and allows him to guide her to the bathroom.

He turns on the water, and absentmindedly Jemma watches the stream of water spray into the tub, where it collects and flows to the drain.

“May I help you?” Fitz’s voice is quiet and when Jemma looks at him, he’s gesturing shyly at her clothes.

She nods weakly, still feeling the exhaustion of the last few weeks in every muscle and every bone.

Fitz reaches for the hem of her sweater and pulls it over her head. She can tell he’s trying to be extra careful, but Jemma nonetheless draws in a quick breath through gritted teeth when the neck opening rubs against the faint bruise on her forehead and a sharp pain rushes briefly into her skull.

Fitz drops her sweater to the floor and slowly pushes her hair back a little, his eyes fixed on the injury that his LMD had caused her. His eyes shimmer with tears and Jemma notices his nostrils fluttering nervously.

Jemma grabs his hand, pulling it away from the bruise and squeezing it gently. “That wasn’t you, Fitz.”

He gazes into her eyes and nods ever so slightly. “I know. Still hate to think of what you—”

Jemma smiles shyly. “I know,” she interrupts him, her own eyes filling with tears at the memory of her stand off with his LMD. Her gaze drops to the floor.

She’s surprised when he reaches for the hem of his own shirt and pulls it over his head. He exhales sharply and hesitantly reaches for Jemma’s hands. She looks at him in slight confusion, but feels no reason to resist when he pulls her hands up, placing them flat against his chest, covering them with his own. His eyes grow serious and Jemma can feel his nervous heartbeat below her palms.

“It wasn’t me, Jemma. It wasn’t me that hurt you. And it wasn’t me that _you_ hurt.” He looks down at his chest and her eyes intuitively follow his. “See? No injuries, no stab wounds.”

Jemma keeps her eyes focussed on his bare chest, her fingers carefully tracing the skin below his collarbones, above his sternum, above his heart. Her lips twitch, torn between wanting to smile and wanting to cry.

“I know I already told you that. I mean, _Leo_ did, but just to reiterate: You didn’t hurt _me_ , Jemma. I _know_ you never would. And I hope—” His voice breaks while his breathing becomes short and shallow as he tries to hold back tears. “I hope you know… I hope you _believe_ me when I say that I could _never_ hurt you! And I know that’s what the LMD told you and then it—” He exhales sharply. “But I won’t, Jemma. I _couldn’t_. I promise!”

Jemma presses her lips into a thin line and wraps her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. His skin against her half-exposed chest feels warm and real and she inhales his scent. It’s a little buried underneath layers of sweat and the stale smell of an underground lair, but it’s there, it’s him, it’s familiar.

“I know,” she sobs quietly. “I know.”

His hands gently cup her face, pushing her head back slightly so they can look at each other. There are tears in his eyes and a shy smile playing on his lips. “May I kiss you?”

Jemma chuckles briefly. The questions seems absurd, and yet, she suddenly realizes that ever since she’d pulled him out of the Framework, every touch of his hand had been accompanied by hesitation, by a spoken or unspoken question, a plea for permission.

She presses her palm against his cheek. His beard isn’t quite as prickly as usual, having grown far longer than he’d ever worn it.

“Of course, Fitz,” she whispers quietly.

A smile flashes across his face as he leans down, pressing his lips softly against hers, inviting them to dance a slow and cautious pas de deux; not eager, not demanding, but an affirmation of the promise he’d made her moments ago.

Fitz smiles when he breaks the kiss and Jemma can’t help put mirror his expression. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, gesturing at the running water in the shower with his head. “How about that shower now?”

Jemma chuckles briefly and nods.

Fitz inhales slowly, looking at her with a question in his eyes. She smiles and nods once again.

He reaches around her and opens the clasp of her bra, sliding the straps over her shoulders and off her arms, before placing it on top of her sweater on the floor. Then he crouches down to take off her shoes and socks and pulls down her trousers and panties. She notices how his eyes linger for a moment on the healing wound above her right knee.

Jemma reaches down and lifts his chin. His blue eyes look at her full of worry, but she smiles and shakes her head ever so slightly.

Fitz straightens back up, holding out a hand and Jemma grabs it for support as she carefully steps over the bathtub rim and into the hot stream of water, gasping briefly in a mix of sudden pain and delight.

“Alright,” Fitz remarks quietly, his thumb rubbing over the back of her hand. “Take your time.”

He tries to pull away, but Jemma holds on to his hand, tilting her head to the side. “Please, don’t go.”

Fitz swallows and nods. Silently, he takes off the rest of his clothes and drops them next to his sweater on the ground before stepping into the shower.

He reaches for one of the hotel’s complimentary shampoo bottles and squeezes a small amount into his palm before massaging the product into Jemma’s hair.

He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t kiss her. His fingers don’t linger on her most sensitive spots as his hands slowly leather her body with soap.

Jemma closes her eyes, enjoying the sensation of his hands on her skin. A smile flashes across her face as the familiar feelings of trust and intimacy radiate into every cell of her body.

She opens her eyes, resting her hand on his shoulder for support when he lifts her foot to wash it. She looks down and is met with his blue eyes smiling back at her, shyly, hesitantly, yet full of hope.

Fitz straightens up, letting the palms of his hands glide over her wet hair to rinse out more of the shampoo, his eyes once again fixed on the bruise on her forehead, before focusing on her eyes instead.

Jemma reaches past him to grab the shampoo bottle. She gazes into his eyes as she washes his hair, as she glides her fingers across his chest, reminding herself of what he had said earlier, reminding herself that there were no scars she had caused him.

She hooks her arms underneath his, placing her hands on his shoulder blades and pulling him closer to place a gentle kiss against his lips, brief, soft, but enough to feel a familiar tingle in her stomach.

She brings her hands back to his face, letting her fingers glide through his hair, comb through his beard. She smiles at him and a faint smile flashes across his face as well, before he reaches behind her to turn off the water.

Fitz takes a small step back and reaches for one of the towels hung over a bar at the foot of the bathtub. He wraps it around her, smiling shyly, before grabbing a towel for himself and wrapping it around his waist. Carefully he steps out of the tub and stretches out his hand to help Jemma.

They towel off side-by-side, not saying a word, until Fitz straightens up. Jemma notices that a shimmer of nervousness and uncertainty has returned to his eyes.

“What now?” Fitz asks quietly.

Jemma takes a deep breath and releases the air slowly through her rounded lips. “I think I might actually want some food.”

Her reply earns her a happy chuckle from Fitz. “Well, you know me. I can _always_ eat.”

Jemma lets out a quiet laugh. “Oh, I know.”

Fitz sighs, a smile playing on his lips. He reaches behind Jemma to grab a bathrobe from a hook on the door and hands it to her. “How about you order some room service? I… I kinda wanna—” He rubs across his slightly overgrown facial hair with one hand. “—lose the Canadian lumberjack look.”

Jemma places the towel on the hook where the bathrobe had been and puts the robe on, grinning widely. “Sounds like a plan.”

She exhales sharply, before curling her fingers around his neck and pulling him in for another gentle kiss.

* * *

* * *

Jemma stares out of the window into the night. The city lights shine brightly and she can see cars driving in the streets below, but their room is high up and the glass of the window is thick, blocking out the noises from the outside world. It seems strange. Even though she’d just spent weeks in a virtual world wanting nothing more than return to the real one, Jemma welcomes the feeling of being removed from the hustle and bustle of the city. The only sound she notices is the monotone buzzing of Fitz’s beard trimmer through the closed bathroom door, a much needed reminder that he’s still there, that only half a hotel room and a door separate them instead of dimensions, entire worlds or half a galaxy.

Jemma wraps her arms around herself, her fingers gliding absentmindedly over the soft fabric of her bathrobe. She inhales a slow breath, closes her eyes and tries to exhale any worries and bad feelings currently occupying her mind.

 _It’ll take a lot more breaths than one_ , she thinks.

The buzzing in the bathroom stops and Jemma notices her heart beat a little faster, though she’s not sure if it’s nervousness or excitement over seeing Fitz again in just a few moments.

_Maybe it’s a bit of both._

The corners of her mouth quirk up like a reflex when she hears the bathroom door open.

_Both. Definitely both._

Jemma opens her eyes and takes another deep breath. In the window she sees Fitz’s vague reflection stepping into the bedroom.

She slowly turns around to face him, but a knock on the door and a muffled “Room service!” lets her stop half-way, looking at the entrance instead.

Through the corners of her eyes, Jemma sees Fitz point at the door. “Perfect timing. I’ll get it.”

He hustles to the door, grabbing his wallet from the nightstand in passing.

Jemma watches Fitz as he tips the hotel employee, thanking him politely. The entrance area to their room is narrow and Fitz has to maneuver backwards, pulling the cart with their food with him into the room.

Jemma walks up to him slowly, longing to finally _see_ him again, _feel_ him again. It seems ridiculous considering he’d only spent maybe thirty minutes in the bathroom, but after everything they’d been through, every minute apart seems like too much.

She slides her arms around his waist from behind, pressing herself gently against his back, inhaling his familiar scent. One of his hands reaches back, rubbing up and down the small of her back, while his other lifts one of the plate covers.

“Sandwiches! Brilliant.”

Jemma places a quick peck against his bathrobe. “I wanted something that couldn’t get cold. They didn’t have prosciutto-mozzarella, I’m afraid.”

“Wouldn’t be the same without your aioli anyways,” Fitz replies, placing the cover back on the plate. “This will do nicely.”

He lifts the arm he had awkwardly wrapped backwards around Jemma’s over her head, turning around slowly.

“Oh my!” Jemma’s eyes widen in surprise and she laughs out involuntarily when she sees him grinning sheepishly back at her. Instinctively, her fingers reach up and glide across his jaw down to his chin and back. “I can’t even remember the last time I’ve seen you clean-shaven.”

Fitz wraps his fingers around each of her hands, squeezing them gently without removing them from his cheeks.

“I just thought. I—” He sighs, wrapping his arms around her waist. “I watched the feed from the security camera from the base, Jemma.”

“Fitz,” Jemma tries to interject, tilting her head slightly to one side, her hands sliding down from his cheeks to the base of his neck.

“No, I _had to_ Jemma. Cause I thought, maybe _somehow_ that’ll allow me to become a part of it, to feel what you felt, the fear, the pain, the—” He stops, swallowing hard as his eyes become misty. “I watched it over and over, but then I realized that no matter how often I watch it, I’ll _never_ be able to feel what you felt and—”

Jemma squints her eyes, bringing one hand back to his cheek, caressing it reassuringly. She’s trying to find the right words to comfort him, to put his mind at ease, but before she can come up with an answer, he continues to speak.

“I know you wouldn’t want me to, but I _wish_ I could put myself in your place. I _wish_ I could take that pain away somehow… I _know_ you keep telling me that it wasn’t me and that I don’t need to feel guilty about it, and I’m _trying_ but part of me will always be hurting knowing that you had to go through this, whether it was my fault or not.”

His arms pull her a little closer. “I _hate_ knowing that you went through that, Jemma, and that I couldn’t stop it, couldn’t _protect_ you from it, that thing, couldn’t stop it from hurting you, physically, emotionally. It… I—”

Fitz exhales sharply, and Jemma gives him time to reorganize his thoughts.

He lifts his chin in the direction of the bathroom. “When I was done trimming my beard in there, and I looked into the mirror, I saw the LMD.” He bites his lower lip, blinking away tears. “I saw the LMD instead of myself and I couldn’t _bear_ the thought that you’d see it too and so I thought, if I shaved it all off—”

Jemma feels her chin quiver with sadness and yet she can’t help but smile. She cups his face, gazing into his anxious eyes. “Fitz. _Yes_ , when I looked at the LMD, I saw _your_ face.” She pauses, wetting her lips. “But when I look at _you_ , I don’t see that thing. I see _you_! _Only_ you!”

He sniffles and a tear rolls down his cheek, which Jemma catches with her thumb.

Fitz draws in a shaky breath. “I know. And I know that you _trust_ me and I… that’s quite possibly the _biggest_ relief for me right now ‘cause I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you because… because—” His voice breaks as more tears begin snaking down his face.

Jemma brings her face closer to his, so close that his features almost become blurry in front of her. “You’re _not_ losing me, Fitz. We’ll get through this _together_. You’ll be here for _me_ and I’ll be there for _you_ and we’ll—”

“Good. Good,” he sighs in relief, nodding in agreement. His trembling hand briefly reaches up to wipe away his tears.

Jemma smiles. “You don’t have to change your appearance because of the LMD, Fitz, okay?”

He exhales through his mouth, his body and mind slowly relaxing. “I know. But I wanted to. Just for a little bit, okay?”

Fitz tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear, leaving his fingers curled around her neck. “Because, maybe you don’t see that thing when you look at me, but I know you dream. I know you dream about what happened, ‘cause you told me… Leo, you told _him_ and I remember how you woke up and you tried to get away from me… from him.”

His chest is heaving with short anxious breaths again and he puffs out his cheeks to let out one cleansing sigh of relief. “And _now_ … _here_ , back in the real world, when you wake up… when you wake up and you’re afraid ‘cause the nightmare lingers in your mind, I want you to be able to look next to you and see me and know… _know_ that it’s not that thing.”

He shrugs. “So that’s why I shaved it all off for now.”

Jemma can’t help but let out a quiet laugh, her fingers once again gliding over his smooth cheeks. “Thank you.”

She kisses him gently, before pulling away, noticing a weak smile on his lips. “Just promise me, you’ll grow it back eventually. Please? Because I think it’s making me feel old.”

Fitz leans back slightly, grinning mischievously. Gently, he pokes Jemma’s chest with his index finger. “Ha! I told you! I _told_ you and Daisy _years_ ago that there’ll come a day when you won’t make fun of me for looking young! The day has finally come! Victory is mine! You two wo—”

Jemma laughs out loud, pulling his face closer to shut him up with a kiss.

They both still laugh when Jemma lets go again, but Fitz quickly catches his breath and his eyes grow more serious again.

He cups her face and sighs. “What do you need, Jemma? What can I do?”

Jemma feels her lips pulling into a wide smile, as her hand reaches for his cheek, caressing it tenderly. Her voice is barely above a whisper. “I want to feel, Fitz. I want to feel _you_! Feel _us_! I want to feel alive. Make me feel.”

She can barely see the blue of his eyes behind a curtain of tears, but she notices the hint of a smile playing on his lips, as he leans closer.

Their kiss is gentle at first. Careful. Their lips barely touching, like two people having been starved for weeks, hesitant to delve into the food they’d been given in fear it could either disappear or be too overwhelming.

Their lips part but neither seems ready to intensify the kiss. And yet, the sensation of Fitz’s lips barely brushing against hers, of his breath mingling with hers, sends shivers through Jemma’s body.

Eventually, Jemma lets her tongue glide briefly against his lips and is met by the tip of his tongue. The touch sends a jolt of excitement through her body. A gasp escapes her lips when their tongues meet again, a bit more courageous but still careful, like explorers rediscovering a lost city, like strangers who think they’d never met even though they’d already spent half a lifetime together.

* * *

* * *

Fitz glances over to where Jemma is sitting next to him, leaning slightly forward to allow the plate balancing on her stretched out legs to catch any crumbs from the sandwich she’s eating. She had put her bathrobe back on, but had tied it quite loosely so that one side had by now slipped off her shoulder, exposing her bare skin.

“You know,” Fitz says, leaning over to place a quick peck to her naked shoulder, “considering the lecture you gave me the first time I dared eat a cookie whilst sitting on your bed in your dorm room at the Academy, I never thought there’d come a day when I would witness Jemma Simmons consume food in bed, particularly the crumbly kind of food.”

_Least of all, witnessing her eating it while practically naked, but that’s a whole different matter._

Jemma looks at him sideways, pursing her lips. Her eyes sparkle mischievously, fully aware that she’d been caught breaking one of her most treasured rules: No eating in bed!

She huffs briefly and the corners of her mouth tick up. “Oh well. You gotta live a little, don’t you think?”

Fitz chuckles. “You won’t get any complaints from me.”

Fitz takes another bite from his sandwich. He hadn’t bothered putting his bathrobe back on and had instead merely opted for his boxers. “Good thinking ordering something that won’t get cold.”

“Well, my logic had been that I didn’t know how long you’d take in the bathroom, or how long _they_ would take to bring the food from the kitchen to the room.” She waves her hand back and forth between their half-naked bodies. “ _This_ wasn’t exactly the reason I had in mind, but… well, it certainly worked out quite in our favor, didn’t it?”

“Hmm-hmm!” Fitz swallows his last bite, before taking her empty plate. He leans over to put both his plate and hers onto the cart.

Then he scoots back to sit next to Jemma. She grabs his hand, pulling his arm around her shoulders and turns slightly onto her side to nestle in with her head resting against his chest. Her fingers begin drawing random patterns on Fitz’s chest.

Fitz smiles at the ticklish sensation that feels familiar and intimate. He places a gentle kiss to the top of her head, while his hand slides up and down her back over the soft fabric of her robe. He closes his eyes, his mind slowly drifting off to sleep.

“Do you feel like I cheated on you?”

Fitz eyes shoot open. He turns his head at an awkward angle trying to catch a glimpse of Jemma’s face. “Wha—?”

Jemma shifts and looks up at him, her eyes nervous and full of concern. “Do you feel like I cheated on you?”

Fitz wrinkles his forehead, unable to stop a quick chuckle from escaping his lips. “Cheated on me? With _whom_ , Jemma? _Myself??_ ‘Cause—” He gestures at his own chest. “ _I_ was there. I _remember_ it. _Vividly_. And… and _not_ in a bad way let me tell ya’!”

Jemma laughs out loud. She pushes herself up to half-sitting, facing Fitz. Then her smile fades as quickly as it had brightened her face and she sighs deeply.

Fitz inhales slowly. He reaches for her face, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear and letting his thumb glide across the soft skin below her eye. “I know Leo and I were different, Jemma, but—” Fitz pauses, furrowing his brows as he tries to find the right words. He sits up straight, pulling his legs up to cross them and rests his forearms on his thighs, interlacing his fingers.

“Okay.” Fitz draws a slow breath in through his nose and focuses his eyes on Jemma who looks back at him with anxious anticipation. “ _You_ told me that… that we’re _more_ than our programming, right? That who we _really_ are goes beyond that! _You_ said that you fell in love with me because I’m _open_ , and _loyal_ , and _caring_ … that _that’s_ who I am, who I _truly_ am.”

A smile flashes across Jemma’s face and Fitz can’t help but mimic it.

He reaches for her hand, squeezing it gently. “So, let me ask you, Jemma Anne Simmons, _why_ did you fall in love with Leo?” He shrugs. “Was it because he was a mildly arrogant, rich nerd who had _no_ people skills, _particularly_ when it came to the press, with a penthouse overlooking the ocean in L.A., and a private jet, and a private yacht, and an 80-inch TV, and a C-3PO and a K-9 replica or—”

“I fell in love with him because he was kind, and loyal, and caring, and he trusted me even though he had no reason to,” Jemma interrupts him. Her eyes shimmer mistily, but they can’t hide a happy sparkle. “I fell in love with his heart.”

Fitz gazes into her eyes, one corner of his mouth ticking up briefly. “Sounds to me as if you fell in love with the same person then.”

Jemma lets out a quiet laugh. She scoots closer and leans in, pressing a gentle peck to Fitz’s lips. Her hand rests against his cheek and her face is so close to his that Fitz can feel their breaths mingling. The look of joy in her eyes makes Fitz’s heart beat faster.

Jemma’s voice is raspy when she speaks. “How dare you beat me with my own arguments, Leopold Fitz?”

Fitz chuckles and shrugs his shoulders. “They were pretty damn convincing, you have to admit.” He lets his fingers comb through her hair, marveling at the sight before him. “How could I be jealous, knowing that in _any_ universe and in _any_ reality _somehow_ I’m lucky enough that you fall in love with me.”

Her smile seems to reach from ear to ear, radiating through the entire room, into Fitz’s heart, mind, and soul. Once again she kisses him softly and lovingly. She rubs the tip of her nose against his before bringing their foreheads together.

“In _any_ universe, _any_ reality, _any_ dimension,” she whispers against his lips, and Fitz can’t resist the urge to seal her promise, _their_ promise with a kiss.

When she breaks away, her beaming eyes linger on Fitz’s and her fingers absentmindedly glide across his lips.

“What do you think they’re up to?” she asks quietly.

“Who?”

“Us. There.”

Fitz purses his lips, scoffing briefly. “Shagging like rabbits.”

Jemma laughs out loud, covering her mouth with one hand, before bringing it down to her chest. “Fitz!” she exclaims in surprise. “You swear more now, do you know that?” she adds once she’s managed to catch her breath.

Fitz shrugs. “Yeah, well, maybe Mr. Leo Pottymouth rubbed off on me?”

Jemma chuckles quietly, shaking her head over his crude joke.

Fitz brings his arms around Jemma’s waist, pulling her close and she shifts to lie back down with her head once again resting on Fitz’s chest.

Fitz rubs up and down her arm. “Saving the world,” he says quietly. “They’re saving the world together.”

Fitz draws in a surprised breath when he notices tears filling her eyes. “What’s wrong?”

She sniffs, wiping away her tears with the heel of her hand, her voice shaking when she speaks. “I don’t know how to keep doing it, Fitz. Saving the world? S.H.I.E.L.D.? I don’t know—”

Instinctively, Fitz tucks a strand of hair behind her ear that’s not even there. “We don’t have to.”

Jemma scoffs, her lips pulling into an involuntary smile. “Fitz? You said yourself how important our work is, that we’re changing the world.”

“That was Leo.”

She chuckles briefly, rolling her eyes. “I thought we’d _just_ established that Leo was _very_ much you.”

Fitz lets his hand glide from Jemma’s cheek to her shoulder, rubbing her upper arm up and down. “Yes, but, Leo… _he_ didn’t remember what we’ve already been through; what we’ve already _done_ for S.H.I.E.L.D.. What we’ve _sacrificed_. He lived in a world where Hydra was on top and he _hated_ it and he felt _helpless_. He didn’t remember that _here_ we’ve already had so many victories. The world is so much better off already and we… we did our part, Jemma.”

One corner of her mouth quirks up, and Fitz bites his lower lip, his chest heaving up and down. “Look, Jemma, remember how Hunter said that maybe Leo could bring some of his traits with him into the real world? Maybe that was a joke, but why should it be? Huh? I… I have _two_ sets of memories now and I thought that would be confusing as hell, but it _isn’t_.”

He chuckles, shrugging his shoulders.. “Who… _who’s_ to say I’m not allowed to choose the best of both worlds? Who’s to say I’m not allowed to remember rocking out to U2 while shitfaced with Hunter and _also_ watching Doctor Who with you in your tiny bunk on the Bus when we first started out in the field?”

Jemma smiles, her eyes gazing at him with love and understanding, encouraging Fitz to tell her about his thoughts, his feelings, his dreams.

“Who’s to say I’m not allowed to remember celebrating my fifth birthday at the zoo with a father who _loved_ me instead of a father who called me an _idiot_ and _also_ remember meeting you at the Academy and thinking I’d just met the most _brilliant_ and _fascinating_ person I’d ever encountered?”

He pauses, inhaling slowly, blinking his eyes to stop tears from creeping to the surface. “And who’s to say that _I’m_ the only one who can have the best of both worlds?”

“Fitz.” There’s hesitation in her voice, doubt, disbelief.

Fitz scoots closer to Jemma, draping his arm around her waist and pulling her to him. “Jemma, listen, please! What Leo had, what he built with Radcliffe, _we_ could have that! We could _build_ that! That’s a _definite_ possibility, don’t you think?”

She doesn’t reply, but there’s a hopeful shimmer in her eyes.

“We could start our own company, Jemma. In the private sector. Prosthetics. Medical aids for the physically and mentally disabled. We could _do_ that! We could _help_ people! _Still_ help people, still _save_ people, but in a way where we don’t put our lives on the line _every._ _fucking_. _day_!”

She lets out a single laugh, her brows furrowed in thought.

“What do you say, Jemma? I mean, we could even still help S.H.I.E.L.D. Sort of independent contractors or something. But we _don’t_ have to stay agents. We _don’t_ have to live at the base.” Fitz gestures towards the door. “We have the apartment that Daisy got us for starters, which I _loved_ by the way. And then maybe once we start making money we could… we could look into—”

“Perthshire?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, as if she were afraid to jinx her dream by saying it out loud.

Fitz can’t help but smile. “If that’s something you still want.”

Jemma sighs deeply. “How would we start this company, Fitz? That’ll require money. Quite a bit of money.”

“I don’t know.” Fitz shrugs, his mind wandering to find a counter-argument for her objection. “Radcliffe was rich as fuck and he owes us. He _owes_ us, Jemma! Plus, he thought of me as his son. Doesn’t that mean I should get some of his inheritance?”

Jemma lets out a single laugh. “Well, unless he _actually_ left a written will, which I doubt considering how afraid of dying the man was—” She shrugs briefly. “Well, I _assume_ S.H.I.E.L.D. will seize all his assets now that he’s dead and—”

“Then we ask for a share,” Fitz interjects, not ready to give up on his idea yet. “I mean, S.H.I.E.L.D. owes us too, don’t you think? Just a little?”

“Fitz.” Her smile is teasing, and she tilts her head in doubt.

But Fitz raises his shoulders to object. “Can’t hurt to ask Coulson for a little bonus before we leave and if not then I have some savings and—” He pauses, gazing into her eyes. “We could figure it out! If we wanted to, Jemma, we could figure it out. _Together_.”

Her lips twitch barely noticeably, and her eyes wander side to side in the all too familiar way that’s letting Fitz know that she’s mulling things over.

Fitz gives her shoulder a little squeeze, trying to get her attention back. “Come on, Jemma! Think about it. SimFitz Technologies?”

She squints her eyes, deeply in thought, but doesn’t reply.

Fitz exhales sharply. “Look. My LMD may have stolen my _wedding_ proposal, but, it can’t steal my _business_ proposal.”

Jemma chuckles briefly, but Fitz’s not willing to hold back now. He cups her face with one hand, inhaling slowly, feeling his heartbeat quicken in excited nervousness. “Jemma Anne Simmons, will you go into the private sector with me?”

Her laugh is genuine and happy. “Yes, I will.”

Fitz sighs in relief. He leans closer, kissing her gently. The feeling of her soft lips molding against his refuels his desire to be closer to her, to rekindle the intimacy they’d shared earlier. He deepens the kiss, but when his tongue brushes against her lips, she stops him, cautiously pressing her hands against his chest.

Fitz looks at her in surprise, but the smile beaming back at him lets him know that he should not be concerned about Jemma’s momentary delay.

“We’re _not_ naming it SimFitz Technologies though.” Her eyes are stern and yet sparkle playfully. “Daisy would _never_ let you live down that name.” She squints, pondering her options. “How ‘bout Fitzsimmons Technologies?”

A smile flashes across Fitz’s face. “Has a nice ring to it.”

Fitz pulls Jemma closer again, leaning in to proceed with his previous kissing attempt. Once again, Jemma stops him, this time by placing her index finger against his approaching lips. “May _I_ make another proposal?”

Fitz raises his eyebrows, puckering up to press a gentle kiss against her fingertip. “What’s that?”

Jemma takes a deep breath, pursing her lips and squinting her eyes suggestively. “Leopold James Fitz. Would you like to go into _my_ private sector?”

Fitz almost chokes on his own saliva. He clears his throat, his eyes doubling in size, his cheeks turning bright red. For a moment, he thinks he may have stopped breathing. Then a smile flashes across his face and he scoots closer, nodding ever so slightly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for everyone's patience! I hope you enjoyed the last chapter before the Epilogue!


	18. Epilogue - To live my life as it’s meant to be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I somehow cranked out 78k words in 1.5 months (including magically finishing up the Framework part of my fic before the Framework arc in canon started)... and then I keep you waiting a month for the epilogue.
> 
> I'm really sorry (but there were all these other Framework fics to write that seemed more pressing and fitting in with canon and it was hard to write fluff when canon was so dark).
> 
> I hope you'll say in the end that the wait was worth it!

Daisy holds the six-pack in one hand, staring impatiently at the elevator display. She could walk up the stairs, of course, but May had put her through quite the workout in the morning and her legs still feel a bit like jelly.

Yep, May was definitely back to her old self, physically and seemingly also mentally.

It had been a long four months of recovery for all of them, but little by little things had gone back to normal, back to routine.

Well, some things had changed, of course. Fitzsimmons were no longer S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. They had officially launched their own company three months ago: Fitzsimmons Technologies. Specializing in prosthetics and medical aids. Albeit, they were currently still operating out of the Playground’s lab since no location they’d scouted out so far was deemed suitable enough for their _very_ specific needs.

_Nerds!_

It was nice to still see them at the Playground though (Well, not for the past three weeks, that was, when they’d taken a well-deserved vacation.). It was a sort of gradual farewell, being eased into the fact that she wouldn’t be seeing her two best friends every single day anymore.

Daisy’s happy for Fitzsimmons. So. Very. Happy.

They deserve it. They deserve a new beginning. A peaceful life. A future.

But yeah. She’d miss them. Definitely miss them.

But then. She has a key. And a phone. And a laptop. And access to quinjets and cars and motorcycles.

Not seeing them every day is a small price to pay in exchange for seeing them happy, for knowing that they’re safe, that they’re putting themselves first for once in their lives.

They deserve it. Leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. Living together. Getting married. A fucking vacation!

Well, vacation was maybe a bit of an overstatement, considering that they’d only gone to the U.K. and Scotland to visit their families, do some wedding prep and all that, but still, they had _not_ been at the base, they had _not_ been working, so that counts as a vacation, a well-deserved vacation.

Daisy had missed them though, which is exactly why waiting for this goddamn slow elevator to descend to the ground floor is so annoying.

They’d set up this dinner even before Fitzsimmons had left on their trip.

_Once we’re back we’ll talk wedding! Maid-of-honor-slash-best-woman-all-rolled-into-one._

Daisy knows that they’re waiting for updates, too.

_How’s everyone?_ Fitz had asked when they’d checked in a few days ago.

Everyone. Daisy knew all too well that his concerns were mainly with one person in particular.

Mack certainly had come around, was no longer holding an unjustified grudge against Fitz even though leaving the Framework had meant leaving a piece of his heart behind. But Daisy had, nonetheless, noticed that Fitz still kept his distance, was acting shy, nervous and guilty whenever Mack entered the room.

It was unnecessary of course, but dangit, Fitz could be so stubborn.

She’s looking forward to telling Fitz the news today. Maybe it would ease his guilty conscious.

“Finally!” Daisy exclaims when the elevator dings and the sliding doors open slowly.

* * *

Daisy unlocks the door, pushing it open with her back, then manages to kick it half-shut with her elbow once she’s inside.

And that’s when her body suddenly loses its ability to move. Her mouth gapes slightly ajar and she knows her eyes must have doubled in size. Somehow she manages not to drop the beer in her hands.

He’s standing in the kitchen by the stove, his back turned to the living room.

She knows he can cook. Well, make basic meals that are edible.

So, seeing him by the stove isn’t what’s keeping her frozen to the spot.

But he’s moving.

No. Not just _moving_.

He’s dancing.

Jamming to an inaudible beat.

Alright, she sees his headphones.

It’s not like the music is only playing in his head.

But still.

This is Fitz.

Dancing.

Whilst cooking.

It’s just…

Daisy takes a surprised step back when Fitz does a 360-spin, using a wooden cooking spoon as a pretend microphone.

But he doesn’t seem to have noticed her.

His head keeps bopping. His shoulders keep swaying. His hips keep moving.

_Oh. Dear. God. His. Hips. Keep. Moving._

Daisy’s not sure if she wants to burst out laughing or cover her eyes.

It seems so surreal.

Like she’s stepped into yet another alternate reality.

Her head shifts when she notices Jemma entering the room, strutting straight for Fitz in the kitchen. She curls one arm around Fitz’s waist, smiling at him from ear to ear. Fitz momentarily abandons his cooking pot to let his fiancée kiss him.

It looks like Jemma is perfectly content with the small peck she places to his lips, but Fitz pulls her closer and…

_Woah! Guys! Keep it PG-13 please! Am I fucking invisible or something?_

Thinking is all Daisy manages.

Everything that has happened since she’s stepped into their apartment seems to have robbed her of her voice.

Finally, her two best friends appear to need to come up for air. Fitz places a quick kiss to Jemma’s nose, before returning his attention to whatever is simmering in front of him and the music in his ears, while Jemma’s eyes glaze over staring at him as if he were the answer to all her questions.

She turns and finally notices Daisy, her lips pulling into a wide smile and her eyes lighting up. She walks past Fitz, who turns his head briefly in Jemma’s direction but seemingly not far enough to notice Daisy. Then Jemma rounds the kitchen counter and heads towards the entrance. She smiles, pulling Daisy into a tight hug, before releasing her with a cheerful, “Hey.”

Daisy leaves her free hand on Jemma’s upper arms, turning her friend slightly to look towards the kitchen, before removing her hand to gesture in the same direction. “What the fuck?” she asks quietly, unable to suppress a grin.

“He’s making dinner,” Jemma replies innocently.

Daisy’s eyes widen, her finger excitedly darting in Fitz’s direction. “No. Nonono. He’s not making dinner. He’s making dinner. Whilst. _Dancing!_ ”

A mischievous smile flashes across Jemma’s face. “Yes, he is.”

“Fitz? _Dancing?!_ ” Somehow Daisy feels like Jemma should be more panicked about this, but her friend merely shrugs.

Daisy’s eyes move back and forth between Fitz and Jemma. “Is this… is this _normal_ now? Is this _Leo_?”

Jemma rolls her eyes. “Fitz and Leo are the same person.”

“Ummm. Yeah, but four months ago, Fitz would _never_ have—” She pauses. “And… and a moment ago? I mean if French kissing were an Olympic discipline, you’d just won gold.”

“Well, we weren’t exactly aware that we had an audience. Plus, Fitz has _always_ done that very well.” Jemma’s eyes glaze over and her cheeks flush peachy red. “Very, very well,” she adds dreamily.

Daisy raises her eyebrows, staring at Jemma wide-eyed, trying to reel her back from whatever M-rated fantasy is currently running through Jemma’s head.

Jemma lifts her shoulders slightly. “Hunter. Well, in the Framework, Hunter jokingly suggested that Leo could bring some of his character traits, such as a bit of carefreeness, back to the real world and Fitz has decided that maybe that wasn’t such a bad idea. I mean, the truth is that all facets of Leo’s personality are things that Fitz has _always_ had, but now he’s letting some of these traits out more. In that sense, he’s maybe a bit more Leo and a little less Fitz now, if you want to use that analogy. Plus, well, not being a part of S.H.I.E.L.D. may have helped particularly in the carefreeness department.”

Daisy sighs. It was undeniable that leaving S.H.I.E.L.D.—despite still working at the base—had changed their friends’ lives for the better.

She squints her eyes. “So, it doesn’t feel like you’re dating two guys?”

Jemma furrows her brows in disbelief. “Gosh no.” She turns her head in Fitz’s direction. “This is Fitz. Just Fitz with two sets of memories. Two life times of experiences. Leo was Fitz more than he was not. I’m dating Fitz. Engaged to Fitz. I’m just seeing new sides of him that make me love him even more if that were at all possible.”

Daisy can’t help but smile. “Alright. Got it. Fitz.”

“Yes. It will _always_ be Fitz. Any world. Any dimension. Any reality.”

Daisy nods understandingly, before her eyes glance back in Fitz’s direction, who is still swaying back and forth to the music, oblivious that their dinner guest has long arrived.

“Alright. Last question, Simmons.”

Jemma squints her eyes skeptically. “Yes?”

“Two sets of memories. Two life times of experiences. How does that translate to the bedroom?” Daisy wiggles her eyebrows suggestively, expecting an indignant ‘ _Daisy!_ ’ in return.

But instead, Jemma shrugs nonchalantly. “Well, there’s definitely been some new things we’ve tried lately, but then—again—that could also be influenced by a general increase in the desire to live a little and enjoy life to the fullest, rather than being directly related to Leo’s memories. It’s certainly been highly enjoyable. Just yesterday, we—”

Daisy raises her hands in defense. “Okay, I kinda wish I hadn’t asked that question now.”

Jemma chuckles. “Well, I was just being hon—”

“Daisy? When did you get here?” Daisy’s almost relieved that Fitz has finally noticed her.

She turns to face her friend, who’s walking over from the kitchen, wiping his hands clean on a dish towel that he then throws casually over his shoulder.

It’s the first time in three weeks that Daisy’s gotten a good look at Fitz.

“Woah, hey, the baby face is gone and grown-up Fitz is back!” she teases him, patting his scruffy cheek while he tries to get away and instead pulls her into a hug.

“It’s good to see you too, Daisy. How is everyone?” He breaks the hug, and his hand immediately moves to his neck, rubbing it nervously, while his gaze falls to the floor.

There he is again. Shy. Nervous. Guilty.

Daisy sighs, pressing her lips together slightly, wishing he’d outright ask about Mack, rather than beating around the bush.

“May and Coulson went on a date. Like, they actually _labelled_ it a date!” She knows it’s a bit mean to leave him hanging, but it had been four months. Four months of him being too scared to bring up the name of one of his best friends, and Daisy feels like it’s been long enough.

“Really? How did that go?” Jemma remarks excitedly, although Daisy notices how her worried eyes briefly dart in Fitz’s direction, who stands with his hands tucked in his pockets, a forced smile on his lips.

Daisy looks away from Fitz, smiling at Jemma instead. “Well, May just smirked when I asked her about it. But, Coulson blushed. Actually blushed and avoided my eyes. So, I’d say it went _pretty_ well.”

Not even Fitz can suppress a chuckle, staring sheepishly at his shoes, and for a moment the three friends bask in joyful laughter over their superiors blooming romance.

Daisy looks back at Fitz when he clears his throat. “And… and the others? How are… How… How’s Elena?”

Daisy rolls her eyes, opening her mouth for a quippy reply, but before she can say anything, Jemma interrupts her.

“Oh, Fitz.” Jemma takes Fitz’s hand in both of hers and shyly he looks up at his fiancée. “Just ask her.”

He draws in a slow breath, swallowing hard, wetting his lips, his eyes nervously darting from Jemma to the ground and back. It seems as if he’s using any diversion technique he can think of. Then he exhales sharply through his rounded lips and looks up at Daisy, his eyes shimmering behind a thin curtain of tears.

“How… How’s Mack?”

Daisy can’t help but smile widely, feeling both proud and relieved that he’s taken that step, crossed that threshold. “He’s good, Fitz. He’s doing really well.”

“Yeah?” There’s doubt in his voice, but for a second, a smile flashes across his face.

Daisy nods. “Yeah. He… he started watching _The Incredible Hope Show_.”

“Really?” There’s a hint of hope in Fitz’s tone. He sounds almost happy. Almost _not_ guilty for once.

He looks at Jemma, who smiles at him, squeezing his hand gently, and Daisy can’t stop her lips from pulling into an even wider smile. “Elena says it’s become a bit of a bedtime routine for him. And he told me that even though it’s sometimes hard as hell, it’s also cathartic. It’s just what he needed, Fitz. That thing you built, that _tool_ … it’s helping him. It’s doing _good_. Remember that!”

Fitz sniffles, his gaze falling to the ground, trying to hide the tears creeping to the surface as he nods ever so slightly. Meanwhile, Jemma looks up at Daisy, mouthing a silent ‘Thank you’ which Daisy reciprocates with a single bop of her head.

For a moment silence engulfs the room and isn’t broken until Fitz clears his throat, looking back up, exhaling a cleansing breath.

“So, Jemma, did you tell her the big news yet?” His voice is still a bit shaken, a nervous tremor audible in each syllable, but there’s also excitement hidden in his question.

“What news?” Daisy’s eyes widen, darting back and forth between her two friends, before landing on Jemma. “Are you pregnant?”

Jemma wrinkles her forehead in disbelief. “Daisy? We’re not even _married_ yet.”

Daisy scoffs, raising her eyebrows. “As if _that’s_ a reason? Not to argue with a genius biochemist here, but last time I checked ‘lack of marriage certificate’ was _not_ a valid form of birth control.”

Fitz takes a step closer, placing one hand on Daisy’s shoulder. “Daisy, you know we like to do things the old-fashioned way. You know, meet at sixteen. Take ten-plus years to figure out that _maybe_ we wanna be more than friends and start a relationship. Throw a few near-death-experiences into the mix. Trips to the other end of the galaxy, different dimensions, a virtual reality. Have a robot ruin my proposal. _Then_ get married and then—” He shrugs, looking nervously in Jemma’s direction. “You know… m-maybe… one day—”

Daisy raises the hand not holding on to the six-pack in defeat. “Alright, got it. _Not_ pregnant. So, what’s the big news then?”

Jemma excitedly claps her hands together, grinning proudly. “We hired our first two employees.”

Daisy squints in surprise. “Really? You… you _just_ started your company a few months ago! You don’t even have your own _office_ yet. You’re still working out of the Playground.”

“Yes, a biologist and a head of security,” Jemma remarks, Daisy’s cautious doubts seemingly gone unnoticed.

Daisy’s eyes double in size. “Head of—? _Again_ : _just_ started your company and operating out of the _Playground_. There’s like _three_ security officers at every fucking air vent!”

Jemma shrugs nonchalantly, still smiling ear to ear. “Well, we actually finally found a location and come June, we can move in.”

Daisy nods. “Okay. Alright. Still. Your company consists of _two_ people!”

“Well, now it’s _four_ people,” Jemma interjects, raising her index finger for emphasis.

“ _One_ of which is the Head of _Security_. I mean I know you two have been through a ton of shit but wasn’t the idea of leaving S.H.I.E.L.D. so you can live a _less_ dangerous life? Head of Security for a four-person company sounds a bit excessive.”

Jemma shrugs, dismissively. “Well, it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. They practically came as a package.”

Daisy lets out a quiet chuckle. “Okay, I _love_ you guys, but I’m not sure that was your best business decision ever made.”

She’s surprised to see Fitz grinning widely. “Oh I think it might just be.”

Daisy scrunches her nose, pointing at Fitz with one finger while looking straight at Jemma. “He’s cocky. Do you know… he’s cocky!”

Jemma shrugs. “Well, Fitz has _always_ been a tad cocky.”

“How was that cocky?” Fitz tries to protest, but Daisy decides to ignore his interjection for now, continuing to gesture in his direction but focusing on Jemma.

“Yeah, when it comes to his _inventions_ , but this… this is like a general level of cockiness.”

Fitz shrugs, gesturing in protest. “I’m _not_ cocky. Teasing you, yes, but I wouldn’t call it _cocky_.”

“Seriously, Simmons, how do you get used to this?”

Jemma purses her lips, contemplating an answer. “Well, first of all, I’ve known Fitz since I was _sixteen_ and like I told you earlier, these are _all_ things Fitz always had, but just didn’t let out as much. Confidence. Sass. Carefreeness.”

“I’m standing right here,” Fitz exclaims, waving his hands in front of his face. “I can hear you. Loud and clear. Right here! Me. Visible. And… and I’ve _always_ had plenty of sass. Don’t make me sound like I was a boring snoozefest.”

Daisy reaches over and pats Fitz on his cheek, grinning mischievously. “You’re not the only one who can tease, Fitzy my man!”

Fitz grimaces at her disgruntledly, but his expression instantaneously softens, when Jemma uses one hand to turn his face in her direction. She smiles at him before planting a gentle kiss to his lips. “Yes, you’ve _always_ been quite sassy. I’ve _always_ thought that you’re wonderfully charming and weird with a _lovely_ sense of humor.”

Fitz’s eyes seem to light up at the compliment and he leans down, giving Jemma a kiss that has a lot more umph behind than the previous one.

Daisy pretends to grimace in disgust. “Okay. Stop it. Now you’re just being nauseating in your lovey-dovey-ness.”

Fitzsimmons chuckle quietly, and Daisy can’t help but smile noticing the lingering look the two scientists exchange, the way Jemma bites her lower lip, her eyes sparkling suggestively at her fiancé.

“Simmons, if you’re about to rip his clothes off, give me a bit of a warning so I can get out of here. No offense, but I’m not sure I’m ready to watch you two getting down and dirty with each other.”

Jemma rolls her eyes, pressing her body demonstratively against Fitz. “Your loss. You’d be missing out on one hell of a show.”

Fitz cough somewhere between choking and laughing, his face turning bright red. Gently, he brings some distance between himself and Jemma. “Oh-kay. I’m officially vetoing Daisy watching us having sex!”

“I second that!” Daisy adds, raising one hand in the air.

Jemma chuckles, shrugging innocently. “Fine. Back to our original topic: I’m quite sure that once you meet our new employees, you’ll _absolutely_ agree that we made the right decision.”

“Yeah, we invited them for dinner actually. Should be here any moment,” Fitz adds.

Daisy pushes her lower lip out, pouting slightly. “I haven’t seen you in _three_ weeks and you invite company for _our_ dinner? I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

“I think you’ll feel _quite_ happy!” Jemma remarks, grinning from ear to ear. “Wouldn’t you agree, Fitz?”

“Agreed one _hundred_ percent!”

Daisy furrows her brows, questioningly. “You two are _seriously_ weird today. More than usual. Like. Seriously freaking me out a little.”

Suddenly the door behind her is pushed open, and Daisy turns around in surprise. First a hand with its index finger extended peeks around the corner, before it is followed by a scruffy face.

“As Head of Security, I think I should tell you that leaving the door to your apartment unlocked invites nothing but trouble into your home,” Hunter remarks while pushing the door all the way open.

“Yes, trouble like your new Head of Security,” Bobbi adds as she steps into the apartment.

Daisy feels like she’s lost control of her muscles as her mouth gapes ajar and her hand slowly loses its grip on the six-pack. She notices Fitz darting to her side and somehow managing to catch the beer before it hits the floor.

“No. Fucking. Way,” Daisy stammers in disbelief.

Bobbi smiles at her warmly, extending her arms for a hug. “Yes. Way!”

“No. No. _Fucking_.—”

“Watch your language, young lady,” Hunter exclaims, putting on his best Dad-tone.

Daisy can’t help but squeal before pulling Hunter and Bobbi into a tight embrace.

“Ugh,” Hunter moans. “Is she using her powers? I think she’s actually crushing ribs here.”

“Sissy,” Bobbi teases him and Daisy can’t help but laugh at the familiar bickering she’d missed for far too long.

She lets go off her friends, gesturing at them, still in shock, her head turning back and forth between Bobbi and Hunter on one side and Fitzsimmons on the other. “How on earth?”

Jemma’s smile is somewhere between sheepish and proud. “Well. In the Framework, whenever I brought up the fact that in _our_ world, Hunter and Bobbi were no longer with S.H.I.E.L.D., Hunter kept telling me ‘you never know’ and I thought, maybe he’s right. I mean, we’re opening a business in the _private_ sector, so Hunter and Bobbi aren’t breaking the deal that Coulson made for them. They’re _not_ working for the US government. They’re working for _us_. Fitzsimmons Technologies!”

“But how did you find them?”

Jemma scoffs as if insulted. “Well, I am… well _was_ one of S.H.I.E.L.D.’s highest ranking officers and _obviously_ despite leaving S.H.I.E.L.D., the agency still kept a bit of an eye on these two… well, Coulson really… and well, before I handed in my resignation, I—”

Daisy’s jaw drops for a second, her eyes widen in admiration and surprise. “You used your clearance level to figure out where they are even though you _knew_ you’d soon lose that clearance level?”

“Yes.”

Daisy lets out a single laugh. “Jemma Anne Simmons, what happened to the young woman who once told me she can’t be part of my bad-girl shenanigans?”

Jemma purses her lips, her eyes sparkling mischievously as if to accept Daisy’s challenge. “Well, she grew up and got pulled into all _kinds_ of bad-girl shenanigans by _you_!”

“Does Coulson know about this?” Daisy asks, curiously.

Jemma merely scoffs.

“‘ _Course_ he does,” Fitz answers in her place. “What does he _not_ know about?”

Daisy shakes her head. “I can’t believe this. _And—_ ” she adds, “I can’t believe that _both_ of you have taken advice from Framework! _Hunter_. I mean, the guy has _terrible_ ideas!

Hunter turns his palms up, looking at Daisy in disbelief. “What kind of welcome is this? I’m wise beyond measure. In _any_ reality from what I’ve heard from these two.”

Bobbi places her hand on Hunter’s shoulder, one corner of her mouth ticked up into a teasing one-sided grin. “Careful, Hunter, I have a list from here to the _moon_ of examples where you’ve acted anything _but_ wise. I’m not afraid to use it.”

Hunter’s eyes widen as he gestures at Bobbi, while keeping his eyes fixed on the other three people in the room. “See what I’ve had to put up with ever since we left S.H.I.E.L.D.? Stuck! I’ve been _stuck_ with this woman day in and day out and—”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way,” Jemma interjects, smiling warmly.

Hunter’s face lights up briefly, the slightest hint of a blush adorning his face. “Shush, love, don’t spoil my secret.”

“If you think _that’s_ a secret, then you’re a shitty spy,” Fitz remarks, trying to hide a grin by staring at his shoes, clutching the six-pack of beer in his hands.

Hunter gasps in fake protest. “I stopped being a spy a good long while ago, as you may remember. Sacrificed my good name and reputation to prevent war. Now show your new Head of Security some respect, won’t you?”

Fitz looks back up, his eyes sparkling mischievously. “Maybe _you_ should make sure to show your new _boss_ some respect?”

“You mean Jemma?”

Fitz nods in agreement. “Naturally.”

Their light-hearted banter is enough to fill the entire room with laughter.

Daisy holds her stomach with one hand, trying to catch her breath while wiping a happy tear from her eye. “You know, I _really_ wanna catch up with you guys. But is there _any_ chance we can do it sitting at the dinner table? I’m kinda hungry.”

Fitz’s eyes widen in shock. “Oh, fuck, my sauce!” He turns on his heels, darting off in the direction of the kitchen. “Make yourselves at home,” he calls over his shoulder. “Jemma? You got the host duties covered?”

Jemma rolls her eyes, her head half-turned in Fitz’s direction. “Is that really a question, Fitz?” She turns back to face Daisy, Hunter and Bobbi, gesturing into the living room. “Well, come on in!”

Bobbi takes a step forward, looking around the apartment, before addressing Daisy and Jemma. “So, what’s new in S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

“Coulson and May went on a date!” Daisy offers as her favorite new piece of gossip.

“You serious?” Hunter asks wide-eyed.

Daisy squints. “Would I joke about that?”

“Bloody hell!”

Bobbi extends her hand in Hunter’s direction, palm facing up, waving her fingers upward. “Cough it up, Hunter.”

Hunter scoffs, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “I’m not paying up until I get confirmation from a neutral source!”

Daisy gestures at herself in surprise. “I’m not a neutral source?”

“ _You_ questioned my wiseness,” Hunter replies, pointing at her.

Bobbi furrows her brows. “Is that even a word?”

“It _is_ , actually.” Jemma raises her index finger, knowingly. “But really not very commonly used.” She turns to look at Hunter. “Wisdom, Hunter. The word you’re looking for is probably _wisdom_. Prudence, maybe. Intelligence. Sagacity.”

Hunter’s hand flies to his heart. “ _Et tu_ , Simmons?”

“Pasta’s in the water. Sauce is ready. Ten minutes and we’re ready to eat.” Fitz rushes back to the group with a few energetic steps, rubbing his hands before extending them in an inviting gesture. “Beer anyone?”

“Don’t mind if I do, mate. Don’t mind if I do!” Hunter gestures at Fitz. “At least _one_ person tries to be nice to me.”

Fitz points in a ‘You got it’ motion at Hunter, before doing a quick headcount as to who else wants a beer. He heads back to the kitchen to fetch the drinks while Jemma politely ushers everyone to the dinner table.

“How’s the wedding prep going?” Bobbi asks while taking a seat.

“Yeah, seriously! I thought that was the whole point of the evening. You ruined your own wedding prep dinner extravaganza with your maid-of-honor-slash-best-woman-all-rolled-into-one with your little ‘we’re expanding our company’ announcement,” Daisy adds, accepting a beer from Fitz.

“About that—” Fitz looks sheepishly at Daisy, seemingly hesitant to let go of the bottle.

“About _what_?” Daisy squints her eyes, skeptically.

Fitz nervously scratches his ear, his eyes darting in Jemma’s direction. “The… the maid-of-honor-slash-best-woman-all-rolled-into-one thing.”

Daisy’s jaw drops and she points at Fitz in nonbelief. “Leopold James Fitz. Don’t you dare!”

Fitz shrugs, apologetically. “Well, it’s just. Jemma and I were thinking that maybe—”

“Maybe it would be good to have _two_ people?” Jemma chimes in. “It’s a matter of legality really, you know?”

“Yeah. We need _two_ witnesses, otherwise I’d of course… Plus, I… I don’t even know yet, whom I’ll choose instead. Maybe… maybe Coulson… or my mum… or—”

“Maybe Mack?” Jemma suggests, smiling encouragingly, and Daisy notices how the corners of Fitz’s mouth tick upward at the thought.

Daisy sighs, pouting slightly in disappointment. “Alright. Just promise me you won’t choose Hunter over me!”

“Outch!” Hunter lifts his shoulders, stretching out his arms in astonishment.

“I’m _not_ choosing Hunter over you,” Fitz confirms.

Hunter stares at them wide-eyed, his mouth ajar, gesturing towards the door. “Seriously guys, you’re making me miss exile.”

Daisy tries her best not to snort out beer through her nose, while Bobbi can be heard unsuccessfully suppressing a chuckle.

“We… we don’t have a Master of ceremonies yet,” Jemma remarks somewhat flustered.

Bobbi draws in a breath through her gritted teeth. “Ugh. Jemma. You really think you wanna do that to yourselves?”

Hunter quietly slams his hands on the table in defeat. “Alone. Unloved. Unwanted.”

Excitedly, Jemma points at everyone. “Usher! He could _definitely_ be an usher.”

Fitz leans closer to his fiancée, doing a lousy job whispering. “Our wedding’s pretty small, Jemma. I’m not even sure we _need_ an usher.”

“Seriously guys? What am I? Chopped liver?”

Bobbi places her hand on Hunter’s shoulder. “I don’t have a role in the wedding either, Hunter?”

“Yeah, but I’m… I’m—”

“Let it go. It’s _their_ day. I’m just happy we’ll be able to be a part of it _and_ their new company. Don’t you think that’s enough?”

Hunter slumps his shoulders. “It’ll do, I suppose.”

“There goes my alarm. Pasta’s ready!” Fitz jumps up and heads back to the kitchen.

Jemma gets up as well, helping him bring the food to the table.

“It smells delicious, Fitz,” Bobbi remarks, placing her napkin on her lap.

Jemma smiles proudly, handing the large salad bowl to Daisy. “Doesn’t it? I’ve always loved to cook myself, but I must say, I’ve enjoyed Fitz’s new-found love for cooking _immensely_.” She turns to look adoringly at Fitz, who can’t hide a shy smile. “Allows _me_ to just sit back and get pampered for a change. _Or_ , we can cook together, which has also been _very_ enjoyable.”

Bobbi smiles happily at the couple. “Sounds nice.”

Daisy leans a bit closer to Bobbi. “Word of advice, do _not_ ask them if the Framework version of Fitz had any lasting effects on their sex life.”

Bobbi chuckles quietly. “Duly noted.”

Jemma squints in slight confusion. “What was that?”

Daisy shakes her head innocently. “Nothing.”

Jemma scrunches her face. “Riiiight.”

Bobbi laughs out loud. “How about a toast?” she suggests, raising her bottle of beer.

“Yes!” Fitz agrees excitedly, extending his drink towards the center of the table. “To old friends and new beginnings!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for hanging in there and for all the love you've given me and this fic. I can't believe it's done. I can't believe I wrote an 80k+ word story. I'm a little sad but also very very happy, 'cause I love how this story turned out.
> 
> A final huge shoutout to the wonderful and enthusiastic @marvelthismarvelthat! Not sure you realized what you got yourself into when you agreed to be my beta reader for this :)
> 
> I realize that about 90% of this epilogue were irrelevant from a storytelling POV, but I just got a bit carried away with the dialogue there and had too much fun and I just said "What the heck, this is the epilogue, let it be joyful."
> 
> To @AgentsofSuperwholocked: When you read this ('cause I know you'll read this ;) ): I SWEAR I had planned to bring Bobbi and Hunter back in the real world the very moment Framework!Hunter said "You never know" the first time in this fic. It was not inspired by your Bobbi/Hunter crash Fitzsimmons' wedding headcanon (which you know I love and wanna read about over and over again :) ), and it's been incredibly hard not to spoil this little surprise when we've worked on our collab fic :)
> 
> One little slightly serious note for everyone: I know some people are dissatisfied with how canon turned out (particularly for Fitzsimmons). I'm not one of those people. I loved this season. I love the Framework arc we got in canon. I loved the season finale. Were there things I would have loved to see? Sure! But all-in-all, this has quite possibly been my favorite season and I'm super excited that we are getting a 5th season and can't wait to see where the writers are taking us. I'm saying all this, because sometimes I get comments that say "I wish this was canon!" or "This is better than canon!" and usually those are huge compliments that add five years to my life, but right now with the finale so fresh on my mind and seeing some of the hate towards the writers and the show that I personally don't share, I'd rather you'd just focus on my story _if_ you decide to leave a comment (and I always love comments), rather than comparing my story to canon, 'cause I love this story and canon equally much. I hope you understand. Thanks!


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